


缘分 | (yuánfèn)

by fyredancer



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Attempted Kidnapping, Falling In Love, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Topping, Loss of Virginity, Love at First Sight, M/M, Modern Royalty, Political Alliances, Threats of Violence, Top Wang Yi Bo/Bottom Xiao Zhan | Sean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27043924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: Wang Yibo and Xiao Zhan are the respective princes of their royal families, and have been expected since Yibo was sixteen to enter into an arranged marriage yet they have never met. As Yibo's twenty-first birthday approaches, their families surprise a royal visit on both of them and expect them to get along—or else.Between politics, intrigue, and their own budding feelings, Yibo and Xiao Zhan have to make their own way to decide how to shape their future together.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan | Sean
Comments: 94
Kudos: 588
Collections: BJYX Week 2020





	缘分 | (yuánfèn)

**Author's Note:**

> 缘分, yuánfèn – that once in a billion pre-destined affinity. In other words, how most of us see BJYX. Serendipity, or just cultivating enough good karma toward one another in a previous life that everything in this one works out perfectly together.
> 
> This is for bjyxweek2020 – today's AU is "your choice" and I chose to write a modern-adjacent royalty AU with arranged marriage. The world-building is loosely imagined as a China that formed various provinces under individual royal family lines. There is no homophobia in this world; marriage can be between any pair of willing parties. (Maybe I should tag it as fantasy too.)

Being the prince of Henan, Wang Yibo had known about his engagement since he was sixteen, and now that he was twenty, he remained opposed in full force.

As his twenty-first birthday crept up on him, though, it turned out a surprise of another sort had been arranged for him. Not the good birthday kind, either.

"The Sichuan delegation will be here within the week, so be respectful," the Wang Monarch, his father, informed him one morning over breakfast at the royal table.

Yibo stared at him, dropping his spoon back into his bowl without caring about the untidy clatter, which made his mother send him a cross look. "I wish you'd respect my wishes on this matter," he retorted. "I have no interest in an arranged marriage and I've already said so many times."

"Yibo, we've been over this to exhaustion," Wang Monarch said with a sigh. He half covered his face. "One does not get to indulge himself however he likes without consequence. You enjoy the privileges of a prince well enough; you need to fulfill the obligations of one."

 _Perhaps if you'd asked in a different fucking way,_ Yibo thought in full fury, but carefully did not say. He turned an angry look on Meilin, his older sister, but she was sitting across the breakfast table with a suppressed smirk and avoided his eyes by spooning up her millet congee.

"I don't want to marry out and leave Henan," Yibo tried a different tack. He thought he saw his mother's expression soften.

"Well, tough," Wang Monarch replied. "The Xiao family will be here soon. Behave yourself.” His father leveled a stern look on him.

 _Be more specific_ , Yibo wanted to say, but bit that response back too.

“Give this a chance, Yibo,” Wang Monarch said in a somewhat more moderate tone. “This alliance means a great deal to both our kingdoms. Of course, if he’s unendurable to you, then we can break it off.”

Yibo’s eyes glinted.

“But try to give it a chance,” Wang Monarch continued, leveling a beringed finger at him. “And I’m familiar with all your tricks, son. You need to make a genuine effort and not prank him into oblivion to try and drive him off.”

Yibo dropped his cheek into one hand and sulked. “I wish you’d reconsider.”

“And I wish the same for you,” Wang Monarch returned equably. “Put forth an effort, Yibo. We all know how charming you are when you want to be.”

That made Yibo suppress yet another rude response, already knowing how poorly it would go over. His father let him get away with a great deal, given he wasn’t going to be in a ruling position but rather his marriage would be used to cement an alliance, no matter who it was. He didn’t want his privileges stripped away; he’d been down that road before.

He inclined his head, shooting another look across the table at Meilin. His older sister shrugged at him with her eyebrows and mouthed, ‘What? I don’t want to draw his attention.’ Yibo gave her a hard look that promised her he would remember this when she needed a favor. It might not be much of a threat because she never relied on him anyhow, but she might someday…and he would turn her down flat.

She just raised a brow with an amused twist of her mouth and looked away.

“Wang Yibo,” Wang Monarch said, his voice hard.

“Yes, Father,” Yibo said, trying not to sound sullen, but he didn’t make much of an effort. “May I be excused?”

Wang Monarch lifted his chin, looked him over, and gave a dignified nod.

Yibo pushed back from the table with controlled force and left the solar. He hesitated in the hallway between making his way to the garage and turning for the administrative offices. At the last second, he decided he probably shouldn’t be driving when he was undeniably angry and turned right, his steps taking him automatically to the wing of the palace where clerks and cabinet members attended to their bureaucratic tasks.

Wang Han looked up from his desk as Yibo pushed through his door without knocking. Despite the last name, they were of no relation; Wang being an extremely prolific family name since old times. Yibo still treated him like an uncle and confidant, because Wang Han among all of his father’s trusted advisors had always paid attention to him and shown him particular indulgence. He’d never treated him like a child, either.

“Yibo? You’re looking particularly sulky today, didi.” Wang Han pushed away the ledger he’d been poring over. He also had license to call Yibo by the familiar term rather than any title. “Did something happen?”

That got Yibo to blow out an aggravated sigh. He folded his arms over his chest in taut disapproval. “The Xiao family will be here within the week.”

“Ah,” Wang Han said softly. He rose from his desk. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” He knew Yibo’s penchant for pacing when he was feeling restless or trapped.

The topic of his unasked-for marriage made Yibo feel both of those with keen frustration.

They took one of the circuitous routes that would lead them along the outer wall of the administrative wing with its wide, sunlight-filled windows to one side, portraits of long-dead royal relatives to the other. Yibo unfolded his arms enough to keep them by his sides but his hands remained curled into fists.

“It’s valid to feel upset, you know, Yibo,” Wang Han said. “You had no say in it, and of course that’s frustrating.”

Yibo suppressed a sigh and rolled his eyes. That wasn’t anything he didn’t already know, therefore of no help to him.

“Keep this in mind when you meet him, though, didi: he likely didn’t have any say in this, either. This was in the works even before either of you were of age.”

Yibo stopped and fixed his gaze on a jade vase up against the wall. It was full of fresh-cut flowers that were replaced daily, which seemed a waste but his mother always loved to see bits of real floral arrangements everywhere. “You’re saying not to take it out on him.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, didi,” Wang Han said. “From everything I hear, the Xiao Prince is kind, beautiful, and a gentle soul. Well educated, thoughtful. No one has anything bad to say about him. I ought to know; I coordinate most of the intelligence from our spies.”

Yibo gave him a brief, tight smile. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, Han-ge. But that doesn’t really mean anything to me. Not when I’m unable to exercise a real choice here.” His only say in this was _try to make it work, or else._ Which wasn’t any kind of freedom at all.

“Ah, Yibo-didi,” Wang Han said, drawing near enough to give his shoulder a reassuring pat. “It’s going to be all right, you know?”

Yibo tried to summon up a smile for him, but it wasn’t much better than his previous attempt; more of a thin, flat line that resembled the ‘yi’ character of his name. Wang Han gave a helpless chuckle and clasped his shoulder.

“All right,” Yibo said. It was neither a yes or no to that. He couldn’t exactly shift his perspective so easily. He was the one being married off against his will, and Wang Han had a happy marriage with a lovely woman he’d adored and doted on for years. Their son was around his age, if he recalled correctly. “Thanks, Han-ge.”

“You know you can talk to me any time, didi,” Wang Han told him.

“Yeah,” Yibo said. He tried not to sigh. “I think I’ll go take a ride, okay? Burn off some of this energy.”

“Oh,” Wang Han said, and his face did something halfway between a flinch and a grimace.

“What,” Yibo returned, unamused. He already knew he wasn’t going to like the revelation.

“Lele has the palace compound on lockdown, didi,” Wang Han told him.

“What? Why?” Yibo demanded. “I can’t even go for a ride?”

“I’m afraid not, didi,” Wang Han said. He grimaced. “Additional security measures leading up to the royal visit. No royal family in or out until after the Xiao family is gone.”

Yibo stared at him, aghast. “This can’t be real,” he said. “I can’t even go out in my mask and goggles?”

“That’s not the only way people recognize you, didi,” Wang Han said with a laugh. “Even if we deployed five doubles, someone could still take the risk. And there’s no use putting anyone to that test just because you want to go out.”

Yibo’s teeth clenched hard. “Fine,” he said after struggling with it. “What about the rooftop? Is that off limits, too?”

Wang Han gave him a wary once-over. “That’s fine; you can go up there. The compound is the tallest building around.”

Yibo returned his scrutiny with a tight nod. “Excuse me, then.” He stalked off with long, swift strides.

On the regular, Yibo was a great deal more respectful and polite to Wang Han, but he was too put out to observe the typical courtesies. He found the nearest stairwell with rooftop access, having far too much pent-up energy to take the lift, and ran up it two steps at a time until he reached the top, swiping his palm over the entry lockscreen for access and shoving the door open.

The fragrant, muggy air of the rooftop garden embraced him at once. Yibo stepped forward, letting the door shut behind him. He moved toward the nearest cluster of hothouse foliage. The rooftop gardens were large enough that there were five distinct glass-walled gazebos, one for each cardinal direction and an immense bell-shaped dome in the center of the roof itself. Yibo moved toward the north, the direction furthest from the Xiao kingdom’s domain.

He managed to hold it in until he was through the plate glass door of the northern hothouse. Once the door clicked shut behind him, Yibo took a deep breath of humid air and let it out in a long, hoarse scream.

Hemmed in on every side, he only had one way forward and Yibo hated that.

***

“Next week?” Xiao Zhan asked, putting his spoon down and regarding his royal father with alarm. “So soon? I don’t have anything ready—”

“Your existing finery is plenty enough, Zhan-er; the Wang family hasn’t seen any of your current wardrobe,” Xiao Monarch said in a bored tone.

“You must have been planning this for some time,” Xiao Zhan observed. “Why wait to tell me now?”

“Ah,” Xiao Monarch said. He looked away and gave a slight cough. “As to that…you’ve been busy with your cabinet duties and the parade exercises, I didn’t see any reason to bother you.”

“So busy that at no point, you couldn’t have pulled me aside to give me a bit more warning?” Xiao Zhan questioned, but shook his head and pushed back from the table. There was little point in taking the royal monarch to task. For whatever reason, he’d planned the visit without involving Xiao Zhan in the details, despite Xiao Zhan never declaring himself reluctant at any point.

He glanced to the side where his sister Xuan Lu was hiding half her face behind a napkin. He couldn’t tell if she was amused or dismayed—she’d be part of the visiting delegation as well, after all. He was the crown prince, in line to become monarch some day after his father the Xiao Monarch passed or stepped down. It would probably be decades before that was a concern, given his parents were healthy and active, and he was more than fine with that arrangement.

The match with Henan’s young Prince Yibo had long since been set. To skirt around the issue of inheritance, Xiao Zhan’s sister Xuan Lu had agreed to produce an heir to serve the line. Xiao Monarch had discussed the possibility of surrogates, but such a thing had never appealed to Xiao Zhan. He’d be more than happy to have his nephew succeed him.

“May I be excused?” Xiao Zhan asked. Though he was resolved to try his best in order to fulfill his duty, he was flustered at the visit being sprung on him with no notice.

Xiao Monarch reviewed him with a keen eye. “You may,” he allowed at last with a regal inclination of his head. He was graying, his face less supple than it had been in his youth, but he was still a handsome man and it gave Xiao Zhan hope for his own future aged self.

He pushed back from his half-finished breakfast and escaped the parlor.

Of course, he hadn’t made it three steps down the wide, red-carpeted hallway before his name was called softly.

Xiao Zhan steeled himself and turned to face his mother.

“Zhanzhan, don’t be unhappy,” his mother chided him.

“I’m not,” Xiao Zhan insisted. He swallowed hard when his mother gave him that particular look. “Really, I’m not. The timing is a little sudden, but…well. There’s nothing to do about it now.”

“You’ll finally get a chance to meet your fiancé,” his mother said, a half smile lightening her lovely face.

Xiao Zhan cocked his head. “I don’t think I can call him that at this point,” he objected. “We both have to accept the match. And everything coming out of Henan points to his being a beautiful but immature brat.”

His mother chuckled and took his hand. “Don’t judge by rumor, Zhanzhan, but by meeting him in person.”

“I’ll give him a chance,” Xiao Zhan said, but wasn’t hopeful. Sichuan intelligence was very good. They wouldn’t have overplayed the young prince’s less admirable qualities.

If there was as much pressure on the Henan prince to accede to the match as there was with him, then neither of them truly had a choice. Xiao Zhan could only hope the six-year age gap between them wouldn’t prove insurmountable for getting along.

“We have to make this work,” Xiao Zhan’s mother said, patting her soft hand over his. “There will be lucrative contracts as a final stage of marriage negotiations, so please, try not to find any reason to ask to break this off.”

Xiao Zhan drew himself up tall, and he had such a height advantage over his poor mother that he towered over her. “Mama, you had better hope Yibo doesn’t give reason,” he replied. He did not expect to be the issue with the match.

“As the older one, I expect you to make sure everything goes smoothly between both of you,” his mother replied, reaching up to pat his cheek. She laughed as he pouted at her and patted a little harder, pushing his cheek in.

“Mama,” Xiao Zhan complained. It was the same standard she’d laid on him all his life when it came to Xuan Lu. No matter how naughty she’d been, he was expected to rise above.

Now he would catch blame for any capricious action on the part of a younger man he had no control over and certainly no leverage. All he could do was stare at her askance.

His mother pealed with laughter. “Zhanzhan, no need to look so upset. All you have to do is be yourself.”

Xiao Zhan fixed a careful smile to his face. He knew he was attractive, with many desirable qualities, but that was hardly all it took when it came to forging a relationship with a person he’d never even met before.

He supposed he would have to apply the same approach as he did to most situations: keep his composure and do his best.

***

The broad courtyard sheltered by two wings of the palace was where the royal delegation was being met with all due pomp and circumstance. The avenue shimmered with heat leading up to the circular courtyard with its lavish marble fountain.

Yibo tugged at his stiff collar for the third time. Of course, his father hadn’t seen fit to direct staff to set up some kind of awning or canopy to protect them from the sun’s rays as they stood outside in the blistering summer heat.

Meilin stepped closer and her sharp elbow poked him in the ribs. “Stop fidgeting,” she admonished.

Yibo could only glare at her. He was in full dress uniform, though his rank in Henan’s military was honorary rather than functional. She was wearing a sundress, and her bare arms were covered in a sheen of sunscreen.

He licked sweat off his upper lip and fixed his glare on the end of the avenue, where a cluster of vehicles had appeared at last.

On the far side of the courtyard, the band that had been situated there waiting even longer than the royals began to play a stirring Henan martial theme. Yibo felt sorrier for them than himself in the moment. He hoped someone had equipped them with plenty of water.

He’d argued with his parents to let him work with the master of ceremonies to arrange for a more exciting, modern welcome for the Sichuan royals, and though his father had seemed encouraged Yibo was taking a personal interest, he had declared the plans already set.

So Yibo was left sour and suffering in the nasty summer heat as they awaited the approach of the Sichuan delegation, which included the young man that Yibo was expected to get along with.

Oh, and marry someday.

He pawed his sweaty bangs off his forehead as the shapes in the distance resolved into an elegant caravan of vehicles. Yibo had to give it to them, the Sichuan royals had some sleek, impressive cars at least. There were bulkier black vehicles out in front and flanking each side, protecting a pearly silver town car in the midst of the caravan.

“Comb your bangs back in place. They look ridiculous,” Meilin hissed _sotto voce_ beside him.

Yibo shot her another glare but fixed his bangs. Not because she had told him to, but because he was vain and wanted to look his best to make an impression on the Sichuan royals. Even if he had mixed thoughts on marriage, he was invested enough in his appearance that he wanted them to think he looked good when they laid eyes on him.

The five vehicles pulled up in a neat line in the courtyard, forming a half circle around the grand fixture of the marble fountain in its neatly tended oval of greenery. A group of men and women in dark suits climbed out of the foremost vehicle, each of them going to a different door of the four vehicles behind them.

Yibo wasn’t entirely surprised to see the Xiao Monarch climb out of one of the bulked-up black vehicles. It made sense to hide him in a different car like a shell game, in case the itinerary leaked and someone got ideas about the entire line of succession being vulnerable in the same place.

He watched the remaining vehicles empty of people and noted with some surprise that the young woman he recognized as the princess, Xuan Lu, had been in the rearmost SUV. Xiao Zhan and his mother disembarked from the silver town car and he offered her his arm.

Yibo bit his lip, eyes fixed on the young prince. He’d glanced at a few pictures over the years since he’d become aware of his engagement, but he’d never paid much heed, disgusted by the very fact he’d been promised to a loveless match without his say. He barely blinked as he took in every detail of Xiao Zhan from his slightly wavy black hair, somewhat delicate face with high cheekbones, large, expressive eyes, and a full red mouth. He had a trim figure and he too wore the clean, severe lines of a military uniform, insignias of rank pinned to his upper left chest beneath his shoulder. He bent his head solicitously toward his mother as she said something to him.

As he kept his gaze on Xiao Zhan, Yibo became aware his pulse was thundering in his ears. Time seemed to stretch and stop as Xiao Zhan straightened, his head turning as he looked toward the reception line of Henan royals waiting for them.

The band segued to a loud rendition of the Sichuan national anthem and Yibo winced. Such a fussy presentation for the newly arrived royals. He wanted to raise a hand to shelter against the sun, but as he tried not to fidget at parade rest, Xiao Zhan’s eyes went up the line of assembled people and found Yibo.

Their gazes locked.

Yibo’s spine went straighter. A kind of passive shock went through him as Xiao Zhan’s face reflected recognition. For a second, all they did was look at one another. A thrill went down Yibo’s back and he almost shuddered at the force of it. After a tick of what was surely seconds but felt far longer, Xiao Zhan gave him a sweet, hopeful little smile, dipping his head very slightly in acknowledgment.

Nothing could have prepared him for how much better-looking Xiao Zhan was in person.

Yibo bit his lip as he came to terms with that. As Xiao Zhan’s appraisal remained on him, he answered with a wide, genuine grin.

This man was _beautiful._ Why had no one bothered to show him better stills or video before? Oh right…Yibo had wanted nothing to do with him. He controlled himself from shaking his head then and there. How could he have been so stupid and short-sighted?

He kept his attention on Xiao Zhan and Xiao Zhan only as the Sichuan royals went up the reception line. He took advantage of everyone’s preoccupation to openly drink in the clean lines of that body in the trim military suit: endless legs, slim hips, and a tiny waist. Each gesture, the way he reached out to grasp the hands offered up the reception line, had Yibo rapt as he watched him in direct appraisal, secure in the knowledge all eyes were on the newly arrived Sichuan royals.

The monarchs greeted one another, and Wang Han stood at the entrance to escort those who had completed the reception gauntlet into the cool foyer. There were refreshments inside, and earlier Yibo had been longing for the iced green tea that he knew was waiting. Now even the thought of sweat was purged from his mind as he bobbed his head and nodded to Xiao Zhan’s mother, who was a lovely woman with delicate hands.

In the next instant he had to look up, if slightly, into the eyes of his intended as Xiao Zhan stood before him.

“Hello,” Xiao Zhan said in a low, mellow voice, extending his hand.

Yibo bobbed his head and hoped his fingers weren’t too sweaty as he reached to clasp it. Xiao Zhan cocked his head to one side, that small smile on his lips again, and Yibo was helpless to do anything but grin back at him, so completely taken with just one look.

He’d never felt anything like this before. Yibo had never thought he would. This kind of thing didn’t happen, after all—it was a myth, a fairy tale. Ridiculous, he would have scoffed even that morning.

Xiao Zhan’s smile widened in response and Yibo grinned openly, absolutely delighted by the way the man’s eyes crinkled. His hand was soft, but his grip was firm, unlike his mother’s hesitant touch.

He didn’t want to let Xiao Zhan’s hand go. He’d already been holding it longer than etiquette deemed proper.

“Yibo?” Xiao Zhan murmured, and that made Yibo realize not only was he still holding onto his hand, but he hadn’t yet said a word to him, only grinned at him like an idiot.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Yibo blurted. He blinked and bit his lip. He’d had a very pretty, cold line prepared to deliver; something stiff and proper that made it clear he was an unwilling participant in the whole affair. That was blown out of his consciousness to the extent he couldn’t remember a single word of it.

He forced himself to loosen his hand on Xiao Zhan’s. The older prince was still smiling, and it seemed gentler somehow.

“We’ll talk more soon,” Xiao Zhan murmured, and Yibo ducked his head, cheeks warming. There was a line of sweat beading up on Xiao Zhan’s neck already from the heat.

Yibo wanted to lick it off.

“I’d like that,” Yibo said. He gazed at him with unabashed longing as Xiao Zhan withdrew his hand, turned from him, and continued to move up the reception line.

He barely remembered saying two words to Xiao Zhan’s younger sister or the cabinet members important enough to attend with the delegation, royals in their own right though not in the Xiao family proper. He bobbed his head and craned his neck to look at Xiao Zhan again, but he’d already disappeared through the front door into the foyer.

At last, the reception line concluded and the Sichuan royals were inside. The Henan line collapsed inward, crowding into the foyer where cooler air and refreshments awaited.

The master of ceremonies clapped his hand once everyone had snagged glasses of an iced beverage. Yibo was halfway to working his way through the small crowd of people that was clustered around Xiao Zhan’s tall figure. It should not be so difficult to reach someone who stood out as much as he did. There was an entire blockade of people between him and the prince somehow.

Yibo wanted to see that smile again. He wanted it turned on him, specifically.

“Everyone please join us in the banquet hall, where we will continue the welcome,” the master of ceremonies announced, extending one white-gloved hand. Wang Monarch took the arm of his wife, Xiao Monarch drew even with him, and the two of them followed the master of ceremonies from the foyer. Yibo tried valiantly to make his way through the crush but Meilin hauled him short with a firm hand at the bend of his arm.

“You’re escorting me, remember?” his sister said to him in a pointed reminder.

Yibo rolled his eyes. “This makes no sense at all,” he complained. “I should be on Xiao Zhan’s arm on our way to the banquet hall.” He gazed longingly as couples formed up and Xiao Zhan guided his sister after the monarchs.

“This is coming from the boy who wanted nothing to do with his intended as recently as this morning?” Meilin’s acidic tone did nothing to quell Yibo’s sudden, vivid longing.

“That was then,” Yibo said equably, offering Meilin his arm. “This is now. I hate this protocol.”

“This protocol is centuries-old etiquette,” Meilin replied with a short scoff. “You aren’t even formally affianced yet, Yibo, as you well know. At present it’s an understanding that you might work things out in that direction.”

Yibo’s tongue pushed against his lower lip. “Consider me sufficiently motivated to work things out, then.”

“Ugh, you’re so shallow,” Meilin complained, but she took his arm and they glided toward the banquet hall.

Yibo ignored her. He scanned the faces of the royals ahead of them as they entered, aware that he and Meilin made for a gorgeous vision, a matched set of Henan royalty as the tall, rangy beauties that they were. They strongly resembled one another to the point they had been mistaken for twins, and Meilin was pretty much a female version of him. Of course, as the elder, she’d argue he was a male version of her. Truly the only difference between them was secondary sex characteristics. And perhaps Yibo’s chin was a bit pointier.

When Xiao Zhan turned to look, Yibo couldn’t help but keep tabs on him for his reaction. He didn’t gape, exactly, but his eyes widened slightly, going back and forth between Yibo and his older sister before settling on Yibo with unmistakable appreciation.

Right then, Yibo was coming to terms with how smug he was over the fact this match was his and not Meilin’s.

The master of ceremonies took charge before Yibo could see Meilin settled and make his way to Xiao Zhan’s side, however. They were directed to take their seats and Yibo was subjected to the unpleasant surprise that arrangements had placed him between his sister and the Sichuan queen, Xiao Zhan’s mother. It hit him that he’d done this to himself, really, because the table plan had been contrived to keep him out of trouble.

Yibo tried not to sigh, but some of his dismay must have escaped because Meilin kicked him in the ankle. He turned a hard look on her. She quirked her brows at him, mouthing ‘be good,’ and he simply rolled his eyes.

 _You did this to yourself, Bo-di_ , he could practically hear her say.

He turned his head and met the eye of the genteel Sichuan queen. “Your majesty,” he murmured, and a pleased smile flitted over her features.

They didn’t have long for a conversational exchange. Once everyone was seated it kicked off a stuffy round of toasts and speeches, starting with a short introduction from the master of ceremonies and proceeding to each monarch, followed by their highest-ranking cabinet member in attendance. It made Yibo profoundly grateful he hadn’t been called upon for one himself. He was no good at public speaking and preferred to keep any remarks as brief as possible.

He tried not to slouch in his chair as he contemplated the interminable stretch of ceremony and banquet before them. It wasn’t his first royal banquet and he was well aware they could go for hours.

At least the view was good, Yibo consoled himself, gazing across the table at Xiao Zhan who was paying attentive heed to Wang Monarch’s prepared words.

Once they got through the interminable speeches and the first course was placed before him, Yibo looked down in dismay. The presence of an array of silver cutlery should have clued him in, of course. They were being served a French European-style meal. He reached for his smallest fork and stared at the amuse bouche before him.

French style banquets took forever. He surveyed his silverware and sure enough, a soup spoon awaited. That meant no picking up dishes and slurping out of them, but instead eating spoonful by meticulous spoonful. Yibo suppressed yet another sigh and forked up his amuse bouche, meeting Xiao Zhan’s gaze across the table.

He managed a slight smirk and popped the single-bite delicacy into his mouth.

Xiao Zhan’s cheeks seemed to color slightly, if he was seeing that right. He didn’t break eye contact, though, sliding his own amuse bouche between his lips. Yibo could only watch in fascination.

All right, perhaps the meal would provide him with some small entertainment after a fashion. In the next moment, though, he found himself jealous of his own mother as she touched Xiao Zhan’s elbow, gaining his immediate attention.

“Face it,” Meilin whispered beside him. “You played yourself.”

“Shut up,” Yibo muttered out of the corner of his mouth once he’d chewed and swallowed. It had been some kind of tangy sharp cheese in a pastry casing, with a bright acidic sauce on top adorned with what he thought might have been caviar. They had probably called in a consulting chef for the meal given it was so far from traditional Henan cuisine. They might even have flown someone from halfway across the world for the banquet.

“Ah, this is quite excellent,” the Sichuan queen said beside him. “I haven’t had food like this since Xiao Monarch took me to France.”

Yibo made a noise of assent and lounged in his chair, awaiting the next course. From the line-up of wine glasses in front of him, each course seemed as though it would be accompanied by a wine pairing, and he vowed to give them all a taste and nothing more. He wasn’t going to be a sloppy drunk on Xiao Zhan’s first night visiting the palace.

There were seven more courses after that first bite-sized teaser. Yibo had been through such a banquet before, fortunately, and knew to pace himself. He consumed enough of each to amount to roughly two-thirds or less of what had been placed before him and left the rest. 

The progression went from vichyssoise to snails sautéed in garlic and butter over grilled bread points to a light fish course, after which there was a long pause for more toasts. Those toasts were considerably more vivacious than the first round, though Yibo knew his esteemed father was nowhere near drunk. After the nearly hour-long break for more toasting, the next course was a duck dish that was so far from Peking duck, Yibo had to swallow down his disappointment. After that, beef medallions in a wine sauce with mushrooms and greens, followed by a cheese plate by which point Yibo was fairly sure he could not fit another bite. For that course, he left half of the smelly cheeses alone, nudging them with the brittle cracker-like pieces of bread they were served with but otherwise leaving them untouched. 

He had to survey Xiao Zhan’s opinion of each course and noted which ones made him lick his full lower lip and which made him wrinkle his nose, try as he might to disguise the expressions. Their tastes aligned for the most part, though Yibo was willing to bet neither of them were particularly pleased with the food overall. It would have been better if they’d served a traditional Henan banquet, or even Sichuan in honor of their visitors, but for some reason the master of ceremonies had decided to go West for the food. Yibo wondered if the Sichuan royals were fans of French cuisine.

After the cheese plates were cleared away, a light, sparkling dessert wine was poured and cut glasses with chocolate mousse were placed before all of them.

Yibo found additional room after all. He had always reasoned there was a second stomach for desserts. In fact, that chocolate mousse was the sole course he finished in its entirety.

He glanced up from licking the spoon to see Xiao Zhan’s eyes on him. Yibo lifted his brows, lowered the spoon, and favored him with a hint of a smile. He was intrigued when Xiao Zhan didn’t look away, but held his gaze as though assessing him before his lips pulled up in a flirty smile in exchange.

It made Yibo want to groan. When would the dinner end?

There was, of course, one more speech followed by one last round of toasts. It was full of pleasant, upbeat words about a fruitful cultural exchange and blessings wished upon both royal families. In short, they talked around the reason for the Sichuan delegation’s visit but no one overtly brought up the arranged marriage negotiations out of sheer superstition. Nothing was set, even if there was a tacit understanding.

At last it was over, and Yibo could have gasped with relief when Wang Han began to show the Sichuan delegation to the royal sitting room. It was a wide, high room beyond the banquet hall, floor to ceiling glass on the wall that overlooked a courtyard garden, floor to ceiling bookshelves overflowing with books in all genres and languages on the other. The warm polished-wood floor was covered in Chinese woven rugs and there were several tables scattered throughout set up with all kinds of games from xiangqi to weiqi to decks of cards. There were also couches to recline on and Yibo knew his father was going to take a seat on his favorite overstuffed leather sofa to have brandy and a cigar.

“Ah, Yibo,” Wang Monarch said, stopping halfway across the sitting room. “Why don’t you give Xiao Zhan a tour and show him around? I know you prefer to stretch your legs after a meal.”

Yibo withdrew his arm from Meilin’s fast as a viper and stepped to one side to let others in the delegation and Henan side file past. “It would be my honor,” he intoned, giving a slight bow as his eyes sought Xiao Zhan again. His older fiancé—soon to be fiancé—stood near a bookcase with his hands folded demurely together and his head swung up when he heard Yibo’s voice.

Wang Monarch frowned at him and narrowed his eyes but could find no fault with the reply. He waved him off with an impatient hand.

Yibo turned a grin on Xiao Zhan, who approached him with inquisitive eyes. When he was in range, Yibo reached out and seized him by the wrist, drawing him out of the sitting room and turning, taking them onto the wide arched parquet-lined hallway that joined one wing of the palace to the other.

“Finally,” Yibo said with feeling. “I get to spend some one on one time with you.”

Xiao Zhan’s tentative smile grew. “I wondered why they put me in between your mother and my sister.”

“They were afraid I’d misbehave,” Yibo said frankly, tugging Xiao Zhan into step with him. He shifted his grip, slipping his hand into Xiao Zhan’s, beyond pleased when Xiao Zhan’s hand curled around his with no hesitation.

Could it be that he felt the same pull Yibo did?

“Oh?” Xiao Zhan replied archly.

Yibo just gave him a sidelong grin and guided him toward the roof access. “I’d like to start our tour at the rooftop gardens, if that sounds like something you’d enjoy. We’ll be just in time for sunset.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Xiao Zhan replied, his eyes crinkling up in that way that made Yibo’s stomach do a flip.

“Then let’s go,” Yibo said, tightening his hand. 

The prospect that, once met, he would never want to let go, had not once crossed his mind. Now that Xiao Zhan was in his grasp it was all Yibo could think of.

***

Xiao Zhan shaded his free hand above his eyes to cut the glare from the sun as it approached the horizon. He was dazed, not only from the overwhelming progression of food that he and his family had been showered with and the cavalcade of honeyed, lengthy speeches but also from his reaction to the boy whose hand was firmly in his.

He was a bit breathless at how beautiful this kid—the prince—the _young man_ , Yibo, was. He proved far more gorgeous in person than any still picture could portray.

“What do you think?” Yibo asked.

“Gorgeous,” Xiao Zhan replied in total honesty, gaze fixed on Yibo’s profile: the sweep of his cheek, the strong line of his nose, and the fullness of his lips.

When Yibo turned to look at him, he caught him staring and ducked his head in the first shy gesture Xiao Zhan had seen from him so far.

“This way,” Yibo said, a pleased smile curving his lush mouth as he tugged on their joined hands, drawing him along toward a glittering glass hothouse on the west side of the rooftop. There were five total, and Xiao Zhan was willing to wager each of them had a completely different assortment of flowers and greenery.

“I’m happy to finally meet you,” Xiao Zhan said, making a tentative overture as Yibo pulled him toward an ivy trellis archway threaded through with golden ribbon and three different varieties of flower: chrysanthemum, peony, and lily. The trellis had a perfect view of the sunset from the rooftop and that was where Yibo came to a stop.

Yibo glanced at him, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. “I had no idea if I wanted to meet you.”

It was blunt enough that Xiao Zhan tried to pull his hand away, his heart dropping toward his stomach, but Yibo shifted his grip, catching him and holding on. He wove their fingers together, his expression determined, and forged onward. “But Han-ge said to wait and see what I thought when I got to know you in person, and I’m glad he did.”

“Oh,” Xiao Zhan said blankly, then fixated on the sly curve hovering at the corner of Yibo’s mouth. “You…you are a bit of a brat, aren’t you?” He was incredulous but stunned at his own charmed response to that direct approach. 

Yibo cracked up a little, his entire body gravitating to one side as he laughed. “I’m really straightforward about what I want, is all!”

Xiao Zhan noted he hadn’t removed his hand. “So you didn’t think you wanted me and now you might have changed your mind, huh?” he said wryly.

Yibo looked down at their joined hands. “I’m open to it,” he replied. He cocked his head at Xiao Zhan. “If you are.” For all the straightforwardness, Xiao Zhan could tell he was holding something back. There was a slight hesitance in his face; he wet his lips, opened his mouth, and shut it again.

“I like your honesty,” Xiao Zhan said. “It’s refreshing.” He meant it. He was too used to every interaction being shrouded in layers of decorum, royal protocol, and diplomacy. Even his close relationships were surface level, politeness above all. He was expected to be guarded even with confidants. Sometimes he felt he had to be that way with his own family.

This open approach of Yibo’s was truly unlike any person Xiao Zhan had engaged with.

“I like your face,” Yibo replied, brows going up, eyes widening.

Xiao Zhan mirrored the expression, a delighted laugh escaping him. “Wow, you go from zero to one hundred, huh?” he said. That set him on brand new footing, and he was unsure how to respond.

“I also race motorcycles,” Yibo said, seemingly apropos of nothing. His sly look shifted into a pout. “When they’ll let me.”

“Oh?” Xiao Zhan prompted. “What’s the story there?”

“They have the palace grounds on lockdown.” Yibo looked away, out toward the horizon.

Xiao Zhan squeezed his hand. “Because of us,” he uttered.

Yibo’s attention returned to him. He frowned. “Because of reasonable precautions,” he corrected.

That made Xiao Zhan’s smile return, and he let himself be tugged a step closer to Yibo beneath the latticework of greenery that framed the view. It put them close enough to kiss. He watched from the corner of his eye, but the young prince kept his attention fixed on the horizon where the sun had all but disappeared.

Yibo turned his head to look at him as the final flare slipped over the distant line where land met sky. “Xiao Zhan?” he said, a question in his voice. Soft but strong fingers sought his jawline and Xiao Zhan’s spine prickled with an almost prescient, acute sense of awareness.

He let himself be drawn in, but Yibo’s mouth hovered near without taking that final measure of space between them. Xiao Zhan was smiling as he closed the distance himself and pressed their lips together.

The sun sank below the meridian and the deeper blush of russet-orange and burnished gold bloomed off to one side. Xiao Zhan had no eye for it; all his attention was wrapped in the feel of Wang Yibo’s mouth on his, and a hand at the back of his waist tugging him more securely into the kiss.

As far as Xiao Zhan’s estimate went, it was one hell of a first kiss.

***

The morning after the resplendent sunset kiss that had been the first, best kiss of Yibo’s life, he woke with a groan, threw back his quilted coverlet, and sank down into his soft bamboo sheets. It had taken an instant to remember what day it was, and his restless dreams had convinced him it was still the day of the Sichuan delegation’s arrival.

He touched his lips with wondering fingers.

Yibo had really done it; he wasn’t imagining it. He’d kissed Xiao Zhan. And Xiao Zhan had kissed him back with tongue and enthusiasm.

He lolled around in his sheets, a wide smile lighting up his face. He was young and horny; after they had parted ways and he’d returned to his suite, he had jerked off before bed thinking of the handsome young prince who was his intended. He was definitely going to do it again before he got out of bed. It was a safety valve and a preventive measure to head off any issues in person.

If he found him this attractive, well, it would be very inconvenient for his body to announce that to the entire room once they were in person again.

Yibo pushed his sleeping shorts down, wrapped his hand around his already hard dick, and went for it.

He was a little mortified it didn’t take long. He supposed he was going to have to start trying to build up some sort of immunity to Xiao Zhan’s face if he wasn’t going to disappoint him the first time they were together.

Yibo sighed, looked up at the ceiling, and allowed himself to daydream a little. He prided himself on being a quick judge of character and he was certain he really liked Xiao Zhan from what he’d seen of him thus far, including their limited interactions. He’d done an unashamed about-face with his opinions. Of course, it helped he was definitely horny for him.

He wondered if it was acceptable etiquette to seduce one’s prospective fiancé after only knowing him for a day.

Yibo rolled out of bed with a shrug, heading for the shower. Regardless of whether it was considered acceptable he was pretty sure he didn’t care. Whatever occurred between them was for him and Xiao Zhan to negotiate and no one else.

He rushed through his morning routine, throwing on some designer casual wear from his extensive closet. It wasn’t as though they could get into any of the activities Yibo would prefer to introduce the visiting prince to: the sports arena was out, bringing him to any kind of street dance performance was out, taking him anywhere by motorcycle was out. He wondered, feeling very bitter about it, whether palace security would even let them go into the city at all.

His steps took him by routine to the palace solar before Yibo thought twice to check the itinerary. It was where he always breakfasted with his family unless the royal palace was recovering from hangovers and taking breakfast in their rooms. Although the banquet the night before had been long and the wine had flowed freely, Yibo had woken refreshed and rather pleased with himself.

On the threshold of the solar he paused for the full effect of his entrance, noting that his instincts had been correct. Most of the Wang royalty was seated at the breakfast table—his mother was absent, she had less of a head for liquor—and the Xiao royals were already present and accounted for as well. There was an empty seat beside Xiao Zhan and Yibo headed for it, an involuntary smile lifting his lips.

Xiao Zhan smiled up at him as he dropped into the seat beside him. “Good morning,” he said, sounding a little reserved again, but his smile was genuine.

“Good morning,” Yibo returned. “Feeling all right?”

“Oh! Yes, I barely drank anything at all yesterday,” Xiao Zhan said. He leaned in closer to Yibo. “Actually, I don’t have much of a head for alcohol, so I wet my lips with each toast or course pairing but that’s about it.”

Yibo chuckled. “That seems a practical approach, then.” He tossed a particularly flirty smile Xiao Zhan’s way and reached for the nearest bowl of millet congee to serve himself. 

Xiao Zhan’s eyes widened slightly and he shifted closer to Yibo in his seat.

“I’m surprised they let me sit next to you this morning, Zhan-ge,” Yibo said, taking a share of shredded pork and crispy garlic before topping the entire dish with an egg. He didn’t even have to reach for the bottle of black vinegar; Meilin pushed it across the table at him. She was sitting beside Xuan Lu and the two of them looked like they were having an amusing enough conversation; she didn’t even glance at Yibo, laughing at something Xuan Lu was relating.

He turned back to Xiao Zhan. “Oh, is ‘Zhan-ge’ okay?” He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, even if his goal was to make himself as familiar as he could.

“Hm? It’s fine, your highness,” Xiao Zhan replied, reaching over and touching the arm of his chair. “I saved this seat for you.”

Yibo turned wide eyes on him. “Thank you,” he said happily. “And really, just Yibo is fine.”

Xiao Zhan began to nod and made a scandalized noise as Yibo began to pour black vinegar into his congee and kept pouring. “What! No chili?”

Yibo wrinkled his nose. “Vinegar is much better. I don’t need anything spicy in my breakfast.”

“Oh no, don’t tell me you don’t like spicy food,” Xiao Zhan said with a grave look.

Yibo eyed him. “Is it a problem if I don’t?”

“Well, we are Sichuan, after all,” Xiao Zhan reminded him. “We’re kind of known for our spicy food.”

Yibo turned his saddest eyes on Xiao Zhan, the deployment of which generally got him whatever he wanted from adults, and a kick from Meilin if she was near enough to do it. “You wouldn’t…make me eat spicy food, though?” he questioned, deciding not to pull out all the stops with the trembling voice.

Xiao Zhan inhaled sharply and leaned toward him. “No, no of course not…” he began, fingers flitting toward Yibo’s wrist and stopping just short of touching him.

Yibo broke into a teasing grin and Xiao Zhan hauled himself upright, rolling his eyes and making an exasperated tsk.

“You are a brat,” he declared, sounding fond.

“I’ll be good for you,” Yibo said, realized what that sounded like, and dove into his bowl of congee before he could put his foot further in his mouth instead.

Xiao Zhan reached for his wuzhi oil tea and sipped it, his eyes sparkling over at Yibo.

That only emboldened him. He was eating, so his hands and mouth were occupied, but he slid his foot across the space between them seeking Xiao Zhan’s. That earned him a slight jerk in reaction, but Xiao Zhan didn’t pull away. His mouth, when he brought his tea away from it, was curved in an amused line.

“I think I’ll wait until you’re finished to try to talk at you,” Xiao Zhan said. “This is very good tea, though it’s very different from what I’m used to.”

Yibo ducked a shoulder in lieu of a nod and focused on tucking his congee into his mouth with minimal slurp. It was less the prospect of noise than his desire not to splatter everywhere.

Xiao Zhan sat back in his chair and surveyed the table as Yibo downed his congee with enormous but neat bites. His foot remained nestled against Yibo’s and a warmth grew in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with the food he was filling up on.

“The vinegar gives it that perfect tang,” Yibo explained himself after downing his breakfast in record time and pushing his bowl forward. “I’ve always preferred that sour type of flavor. And the vinegar we keep at the table is really good.”

“I’m not surprised, it’s a very expensive brand,” Xiao Zhan said, nodding toward the bottle.

“Oh?” Yibo had no idea about prices. He would have to get crates of his favorite vinegar delivered to Sichuan. He thought about saying so aloud to Xiao Zhan and decided it would be too forward. “Have you seen an itinerary for today yet?”

Xiao Zhan pursed his lips, kindling a desire in Yibo to lean forward and take that tacit invitation. He was sure it would shock his family, though, provided he was even able to land the kiss without Xiao Zhan shrinking back, so holding himself in was easier than giving in to impulse.

“I haven’t seen one, but I think they’ve been discussing it?” he said, inclining his head toward the other end of the oval table where the Wang Monarch and Xiao Monarch were seated in close conversation.

Yibo wrinkled his nose, dismissing their fathers. “I’m sure they’re wrapped up in some boring trade discussion,” he said. “Even though that’s scheduled for later on with the full delegations.”

Xiao Zhan mirrored the gesture. “Yes, my father would absolutely try to get a head start on negotiations without either side’s advisors in the room.”

Yibo nodded. “As would mine.”

“Well, I don’t believe we’re expected to be part of the deliberations today,” Xiao Zhan said, nudging Yibo’s elbow with his.

Yibo returned the nudge, pleased. He scuffled his foot against Xiao Zhan’s, pushing hard enough to make him slide a short way. Xiao Zhan took his foot away and before Yibo could wonder if he’d taken things too far, Xiao Zhan _twined_ his foot around Yibo’s ankle, making his mouth form a round ‘o’ of surprise.

He broke into a grin, trying to transmit with his eyes how pleased he was at the escalation.

“I wonder if we’re making our own itinerary,” he said, looking away so that his entire face wouldn’t give away how he felt about that. “Or if they have something planned.” He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a whole blueprint mapped out for the entirety of the Sichuan delegation’s stay.

Xiao Zhan hummed thoughtfully beside him.

They didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Yibo had been the last one to the breakfast table, and while he ate, the others had devolved into pleasant chatter.

Wang Monarch caught Yibo’s attention with a small throat-clearing noise. “Perhaps the two of you can get to know one another today,” he said, trying on a smile. “There are many pastimes to explore and see whether you have in common.”

“Can I take him to the market?” Yibo asked. There were often street performances, including dancing, that he would love for Xiao Zhan to drop in on with him.

Wang Monarch frowned. “Of course not, that’s far too risky. We’d have to clear several streets for the two of you to go there; and then what’s the point?”

 _What’s the point, indeed,_ Yibo wondered, but of course could not say.

“Then, a motorcycle—” Yibo began. He was cut off before he could even finish.

“No motorcycles,” Wang Monarch snapped before modulating his tone. “It’s too risky, Yibo, surely you can see that.”

Yibo was trying not to get heated but he could sense Xiao Zhan’s appraisal. He especially did not want him to see Yibo rising to his father’s strong-arm approach.

“Surely the sports arena, masked and—”

“No,” Wang Monarch vetoed. Perhaps sensing the scrutiny of several, he elaborated. “It would take too long to clear it. By the time security swept the place it would already be time to turn around and come home for our evening banquet.”

Yibo tried not to grit his teeth. His father knew that all his favorite pastimes were outdoors and had laid no plans to allow for any of them. Was he gambling that enforced proximity would win out over any potential resentment Yibo held over being locked up in the palace compound for the duration of the royal visit? He was accustomed to more freedom in his daily movements.

His attention returned to Xiao Zhan, who was chewing at his bottom lip. He glanced at Yibo, dark eyes unfathomable.

Yibo was possessed of the urge to take his hand, but they didn’t even know one another that well. He tucked himself in, putting his hands under his thighs for good measure.

“Perhaps you can show him the gallery wing,” Meilin suggested from across the table. “I know you couldn’t have possibly given Xiao Zhan the full tour of the palace, and the gallery is an entire day’s work of diversion.”

Yibo stifled a groan. He oriented toward Xiao Zhan, whose face looked lit from within. He was interested.

“Is that okay?” Xiao Zhan asked tentatively, putting his head to one side.

Yibo nerved himself and reached out, closing his hand over Xiao Zhan’s wrist. “Let’s go, before they change their minds and set us to something incredibly boring like observing military drills.”

Xiao Zhan’s grin lit up his whole face as Yibo snagged him and drew him out of his chair.

The conversation at the table resumed behind them as if there had been no interruption.

“I’m sorry if our visit is confining you from your usual freedoms,” Xiao Zhan said when they were halfway down one of the wide, column-lined halls, the one that would lead to the extensive gallery wing.

Yibo realized he was still holding Xiao Zhan’s wrist and released him, fingers rubbing convulsively against one another. “What? No, that’s not your fault,” he said with no hesitation. He pondered over that a few strides and added, “if anything, the visit is making clear to me I’ve enjoyed a certain range of movement that isn’t usually accessible to those of my station.” His eyes sought Xiao Zhan’s.

Xiao Zhan favored him with a thoughtful look. They had fallen into step with one another. Usually it was difficult for Yibo to hold himself to other peoples’ paces with his long-legged strides, but Xiao Zhan matched him without effort.

“Henan is a safe place,” he said at last. “They must have taken extra care to ensure you’ve been able to enjoy such freedoms.”

Yibo had never thought about it like that before. “I suppose so.” 

They walked toward the gallery, Yibo guiding Xiao Zhan with small nods and chin lifts. He was tempted, so tempted, to reach for his hand and twine their fingers together and walk to the gallery that way, but he’d been called overly forward often enough that he knew even if he was comfortable with being tactile so soon, it didn’t mean that Xiao Zhan was.

After the third turn along palace hallways that were mostly empty of staff—those were concentrated elsewhere, busy with many tasks to keep the visit with the Sichuan delegation running smoothly—Yibo was surprised at the tentative brush of knuckles against his. He glanced over.

They were walking close together, but Yibo didn’t think it had been an accidental brush. There was enough space in the hallway for eight people to walk abreast of one another without touching.

Xiao Zhan met his glance, one eyebrow arching upward, a tiny smile hovering like a question at the corner of his mouth.

 _Oh,_ Yibo thought. He reachd over and took his hand. He watched in fascination as that smile bloomed.

“I didn’t think I was being too forward,” Xiao Zhan said.

“You’re not,” Yibo replied. “I thought I might be.”

“Oh,” Xiao Zhan said. He turned a bemused little smile on Yibo. “We’ve already kissed.”

Yibo’s opposite shoulder dipped in an awkward shrug. “I’ll have to take your lead on this,” he said. “I…I’m not sure how all this works, actually. It’s not like anyone gave me an etiquette guide to follow.”

Xiao Zhan’s smile widened, and something in the kindness of his eyes let Yibo know he was not being mocked. “Yibo, have you never…?”

“Never,” Yibo replied. He rolled his lips in. His fingers tightened on Xiao Zhan’s, and he was emboldened to receive the press of slender fingers in return. “When would I? We were engaged when I was sixteen, after Wang Monarch was satisfied I liked boys. I didn’t have anyone in my entourage I was interested in; I was privately tutored; even my friendships have been carefully curated, if you will.” Not to mention, he was watched outside of the palace every moment so there was no privacy in leaving.

Once he’d been promised to Xiao Zhan, any sources of exploration in that way had been cut off, and Yibo didn’t know if that had been purposeful or a side effect of keeping him safe.

“I’m sorry,” Xiao Zhan said, frowning. “It must seem like all this has been forced on you, then.” He started to pull his hand away.

Yibo clung to it. “I don’t mind,” he said. He gave Xiao Zhan a determined face when he looked at him with disbelief. “Really, if…if it’s you. I think you’ve been worth waiting for?”

“Ah,” Xiao Zhan said softly, tucking his chin down, eyes cast toward the floor they were still walking over in pursuit of the gallery.

Yibo had the awful feeling he was about to get let down, and his stomach bottomed out.

“You really think so?” Xiao Zhan said in a small voice. “Already?”

Yibo smirked at him to cover up the strange revolutions his stomach was doing. “Well, I want to find out,” he asserted. “I really like you so far, Zhan-ge. It’s like walking into a dream scenario. I had no idea what to expect, but…”

He trailed off. He felt _drawn_ to Xiao Zhan when they’d barely met and this, their second conversation, was the longest they’d ever had. But he was supposed to marry this man and he found himself already wanting to. Wasn’t that a good sign?

“I like you, too, Yibo,” Xiao Zhan said, as straightforward as he’d been. He broke into a smile again, wide and sunny. “So let’s get to know one another and see if that positive first impression carries through.”

“Oh, no,” Yibo said, pulling his puppy eyes on Xiao Zhan. “That’s where I’ll be in trouble.”

“Don’t tell me; you’re horribly spoiled?” Xiao Zhan said in a dry tone.

Yibo wrinkled his nose. “You did say I’m a brat.” He wasn’t wrong, either. It was Meilin’s favorite term for him.

“I think, in a way, you’ve been just as hemmed in by expectations as I have,” Xiao Zhan said thoughtfully, gaze fixed on the hallway as they found and turned another corner. The archway to the gallery wing spread out before them, two rows of marble columns flanking a gilt-faced doorway. Unlike museums, the gallery had no doors that closed because there was no need. It was open to royalty at whatever hours the Wang family or their guests chose to peruse.

“And it’s easy to find the need to act out against those constraints, especially when they appear unreasonable,” Xiao Zhan continued, tugging him forward by the hand. He looked over his shoulder at Yibo. “Don’t you think?”

Yibo tried not to frown. “I feel like you're trying to give me too much credit," he said at last. "But that's exactly what it's been like for me.”

Xiao Zhan’s smile was thin, distant, but Yibo sensed that wasn’t because of him. “Well, I don’t know about giving you credit for what I’ve had to put up with as well.”

“Then, it might be nice to have someone to talk to about it,” Yibo offered, curling his fingers in Xiao Zhan’s.

This time the smile that crossed Xiao Zhan’s face was genuine, and its warmth was aimed right at him. “Yeah,” he said. “I think so, too.”

Yibo offered him another pleased smile at that and led him into the gallery. The first wide, open room had a vaulted ceiling, intricate glasswork above offering a view of the clear sky. There were large paintings on the walls, a few partitions placed at pleasing angles to allow space for more paintings to be hung, and statues scattered throughout.

"Ah, Tang Dynasty?" Xiao Zhan breathed, gravitating toward the nearest enormous painting hung on a full wall and drawing Yibo with him.

Yibo’s mouth tugged up at his enthusiasm. He let himself be drawn.

“Yes, it is,” Xiao Zhan enthused, reading from the small plaque beside the painting. “You have a proper museum here, Yibo.”

“Mn,” Yibo responded. “It has its own curator and everything. The focus is on preserving Henan culture, of course, but we’ve picked up some other priceless works from other provinces on payment and trade.”

Xiao Zhan gave him a sharp look that Yibo interpreted as approving. “No grave robbers in Henan, I presume.”

“No, we’ve had a focus on maintaining culture for as long as I’ve known and keeping our Henan artifacts in Henan. Anything from other provinces was obtained legally,” Yibo replied, wrinkling his nose. He knew that wasn’t necessarily the case for some of the outlying provinces.

“Sichuan follows that principle as well,” Xiao Zhan said. He tugged Yibo on to the next piece he was interested in. “Amazing! I’ll bet there are pieces I haven’t even seen in books.”

“You’re probably right,” Yibo said. “The gallery was started under my great-grandmother, and she was always strict about having anything viewed or even documented.”

Xiao Zhan guided him from one statue to another, his hand a pleasant warmth in Yibo’s without being sweaty thanks to the indoor cooling system. He paused beside each piece of artwork, eyes roaming in wonder over canvas and scroll and sculpture alike. He read each plaque set beside all of the works, his face lively with interest. Yibo watched him take in the artwork, more entertained by Xiao Zhan’s reactions than the art he’d never paid much heed to. He’d already had to study pieces from the gallery at various points in his education and the collection didn’t hold much thrall for him.

“You’re bored,” Xiao Zhan observed by the time they reached the third wide, well-illuminated room of the gallery and Yibo’s mouth stretched in a yawn as he shuffled to a stop beside Xiao Zhan and another enormous piece.

Yibo tried to suppress his sigh, but Xiao Zhan leaned in, poking his cheek, and he dissolved into a helpless laugh and shook his head. “Sorry, it’s just—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Xiao Zhan said, narrowing his eyes. “If this is dull enough to make you yawn, I’d rather know than have you try to hide it.”

Yibo pursed his lips. “Fair,” he said. He noted with a faint stirring how Xiao Zhan’s eyes moved almost inadvertently to his mouth. “You’re right, I’m bored. I’ve been made to go through this gallery my fair share, so although it’s new to you…”

“Right,” Xiao Zhan said. He nodded. “We don’t have to tour through the gallery, then.”

Yibo’s shoulder dipped. He guided Xiao Zhan over to the nearest bench, which was situated across from another statue and faced an open courtyard bracketed by four of the gallery rooms. The courtyard itself was another artwork instillation, a recreation of a Taoist rock garden. He played with Xiao Zhan’s fingers and put his head to one side.

“What can we do that’s more to your taste?” Xiao Zhan asked.

Yibo scrunched up his face. “Well…since we’re not able to go outside, do you wanna make out?” He held his breath, ready to laugh and say it had been a joke if he’d overstepped.

Xiao Zhan stared at him, eyes wide and lips parted, and Yibo’s stomach dropped. “You want to do that?” Xiao Zhan breathed, and it wasn’t a _no_ , so Yibo went for it, leaning in, fingers skimming Xiao Zhan’s jawline before sinking into the silken, extremely soft black hair behind his well-shaped ear. Damn, even his ears were pretty.

He brought his mouth up within range with a lift of his chin, eyes fixed on Xiao Zhan’s, both mesmerized and afraid to look away. He was close enough to see Xiao Zhan swallow, to see his eyes flutter half-shut, before he leaned in too and his lips brushed Yibo’s, feather light.

Yibo closed his eyes but had to open them again to see Xiao Zhan’s face hovering so near his. He was treated with the sight of Xiao Zhan smiling before he moved in again, his mouth closing over Yibo’s with more decisive pressure.

His heart seemed to be pounding too much to enjoy it at first, Yibo thought, but he let his eyes fall shut again and concentrated on the pliable feel of Xiao Zhan’s mouth pressed against his, pursing enough to fit their lips together more comfortably. Xiao Zhan brought his hand up, too, cupping Yibo’s jaw and slanting him to the side as he shifted position. It settled them into the kiss and Yibo’s lips parted in surprise. Xiao Zhan’s lips nipped down on his and Yibo surged in, bumping their noses.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, pulling back and disentangling their fingers.

Xiao Zhan was chuckling, but his eyes sparkled over at Yibo. He rubbed a finger over the bridge of his nose.

Yibo tried not to scowl at him. “Let me try again,” he challenged, with an undertone of _I can do better_ , because he knew that he could.

Without a verbal reply, Xiao Zhan leaned in, offering his mouth. Yibo took him up on it, keeping his eyes cracked open just enough to steer where he was going. He claimed those plush lips with his, capturing the bottom lip with both his. Xiao Zhan made a low noise and his hand drifted up to touch Yibo’s neck.

The thrill of it crackled through Yibo and he kissed Xiao Zhan again, their mouths parted and lips trapping one another’s again and again. When Yibo gave a little growl and caught Xiao Zhan’s bottom lip with his teeth, worrying slightly, Xiao Zhan shuddered and pulled him closer.

Yibo’s eyes were closed again when Xiao Zhan’s tongue quested over his lip. His eyes flew open and they were still kissing, open-mouthed; the tongue was a new element that kick-started heat in his middle. He accepted the tongue passively at first, wanting to see what to do. When Xiao Zhan’s tongue pressed in against his it seemed only polite to greet it with his own.

Before he knew it, Yibo found Xiao Zhan slung over his lap on the bench, cupping his face between both hands as he twined their tongues together.

 _Oh,_ he would have said, if their mouths weren’t occupied. He let his eyes fall shut again. If there was anything better than looking at Xiao Zhan, it was kissing Xiao Zhan. His lips were so soft, and his tongue was slick and yielding, but the way it pressed up against Yibo’s coaxed his into play.

His hands settled on Xiao Zhan’s waist as they traded a series of slow, exploratory kisses. His eyes remained squeezed shut, though every time Xiao Zhan drew back to catch a breath, they fluttered open again so that he could admire Xiao Zhan looking every bit as oxygen-starved and eager as he felt.

Xiao Zhan tipped a small grin his way and Yibo couldn’t help but smile back. His chest felt tight, almost like Xiao Zhan was sitting on his ribcage and not his thighs, but it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. He only wanted more. He wanted to be closer.

Despite taking care of himself in bed and the shower that morning, Yibo’s cock really wanted to get in on the action. There was enough space between them that Xiao Zhan couldn’t tell, yet, but if he slid any closer on his lap then he’d find out exactly how much he turned Yibo on in seconds.

Yibo wanted to forget about that, to put it aside, but it was looming in the forefront of his mind as Xiao Zhan leaned in to take his mouth again. He cupped one hand at Yibo’s neck, the other at his jawline.

If Yibo had any doubt whether the sexual chemistry was there, his doubts were thoroughly dispelled.

Still, the kissing was great but he was going to have to figure out some way to conceal his erection from Xiao Zhan or at least make sure he didn’t slide any closer inward. When he broke the kiss, trying not to frown, Xiao Zhan stroked the side of his face.

“Is it not good?” Xiao Zhan wondered.

“It’s so good!” Yibo assured him, eyes flicking up from his wet, red mouth to his slightly widened, anxious eyes. He rolled his lips in and glanced to the side. “Too good…”

Xiao Zhan’s giggle surprised him and Yibo’s eyes flew back to him. “It’s okay,” he assured him. “Don’t worry about that, it happens.”

Before Yibo could worry whether he’d understood too much, or maybe not enough, a gentle three-toned chime sounded throughout the gallery.

 _“His royal highness and guest, lunch will be served in the royal solar in twenty minutes,”_ a disembodied voice informed them. _“His royal highness and guest, please report to the royal solar in twenty minutes to have lunch with the others.”_

“That should be his royal highness and his royal highness,” Yibo muttered, settling his palm flat on the back of Xiao Zhan’s waist. It was so trim he wondered if he could span it with both hands.

“It sounds pre-recorded,” Xiao Zhan noted, re-settling his hands on Yibo’s shoulders. He glanced at him, leaned in, and stole a kiss from the corner of his mouth.

“Mm,” Yibo responded, pleased at the kiss. He wanted to press another one on Xiao Zhan himself. But he wouldn’t stop at one; he knew himself. “We can come back to the gallery after lunch, if you want.” All of the kisses they’d traded had made him magnanimous.

Xiao Zhan’s grin was blinding. “Oh, so you can make out with me some more?”

“You—” Yibo began, outraged. It took two to kiss like that!

Xiao Zhan snickered and darted in to steal another kiss, pulling back when Yibo parted his lips to try to deepen it. “Relax, Yibo, it’s not like I wouldn’t be kissing you back.” His hand stroked the side of his neck.

“Oh.” Yibo surged up and kissed his chin. That was all right then.

He wanted to keep kissing him, and petting him, but Xiao Zhan climbed off his thighs and turned toward the nearest painting, lacing his hands behind his back. It allowed Yibo the time and privacy to stand and brush the creases out of his pants and try to get his erection to subside. He tuned into thoughts of Wang Monarch and Xiao Monarch going over trade deals.

There, that did it. Erection begone.

“It wasn’t…too much?” Yibo ventured, joining Xiao Zhan at his side.

Xiao Zhan glanced over at him and angled his head to one side. “Yibo. I climbed into your lap,” he reminded him. “If anything, I was worried I was moving too fast for you.”

“Oh. You don’t need to worry about that,” Yibo said.

“No?” Xiao Zhan’s brows rose. “But you never—”

“I want to with you,” Yibo interposed.

“Wow,” Xiao Zhan murmured, eyes wide.

“Sorry,” Yibo said. “I can throttle back. I mean, I can try. I’m…a zero to 100 kilometer type.”

Xiao Zhan shook his head. “It’s not that, I swear. You surprise me, Yibo.” He straightened, unclasped his hands from behind his back, and reached for Yibo’s hand again. “I like that.”

“What? Being surprised or moving fast?” Yibo said wryly. 

Xiao Zhan’s grin was anything but shy right then. “A little bit of both, as long as it’s you.”

That tightness hooked its way into Yibo’s ribs again, and he grinned back. “Then that’s good.”

They returned to the solar for lunch and once again, Yibo was allowed to sit next to the crown prince of Sichuan. Wang Monarch kept throwing puzzled looks his way throughout as though he couldn’t believe Yibo was actually behaving, getting along with his intended fiancé. If only he knew, Yibo thought to himself, and kept his expression neutral all throughout lunch to keep his father guessing. He had no desire to let Wang Monarch know he’d fallen for Xiao Zhan so fast. Let him work for it through negotiations and consider him a barrier for a bit longer.

Underneath the table, though, their feet nudged together.

Lunch was a spicy Sichuan noodle dish that was so hot Yibo had to cough and fumble for his water. He was glad there was some tofu pudding for dessert to cool him down. Xiao Zhan made a valiant effort not to laugh while Yibo thought direly that he was being consigned to a lifetime of this cuisine. How was he expected to manage?

After everyone was finished eating, they moved to the royal salon and Yibo had expected to be released for more aimless wandering, whether he brought Xiao Zhan back to the gallery or not. He thought briefly about the prospect someone might view the CCTV footage from the gallery and could have seen him making out with Xiao Zhan, but he was sure Han-ge would make sure that was kept on the down-low.

Instead of being released, though, his mother pressed him into a game of weiqi with the Sichuan princess, Xuan Lu. Despite Yibo’s attempts at subtle facial expression and verbal polite protestations at how bad he was, his mother didn’t release him from the social obligation.

Xiao Zhan hovered at his elbow, patting his arm. “It’s all right, I’ll give you tips on Lulu’s strategy,” he murmured beside him.

“Zhanzhan!” Xuan Lu exclaimed. “You’d give my secrets over just like that?”

“Of course, Lulu!” Xiao Zhan replied with a shameless smile. “Yibo can offer me far more benefits than you.”

Xuan Lu arched a brow at the two of them, making Yibo bite his lip. She’d surely caught onto the familiar form of address.

They settled down for an afternoon spent in the salon, and Yibo couldn’t consider it a loss. Any moment not spent with Xiao Zhan at his side was spent across from him at a weiqi board. He learned his soon-to-be fiancé was full of strategy and playful humor, and the two of them struck a surprisingly easy rapport as they remained beside one another all afternoon.

And, well, Yibo was pleased to know the sexual chemistry was there. He’d always figured it was an important part of a mature relationship.

***

Xiao Zhan awoke in his luxurious canopied guest bed in the softness of gold silk sheets, sat up, rubbed his eyes, and gazed out at the slate gray skies outside. Rain dripped down over the wide window that ran the length of his room and ticked off the awning outside it. He sighed and flopped back into the comfort of his bed, pulling the sheets and blanket over him and swaddling himself as though it was a warm nest.

He curled on his side and his thoughts inevitably returned to Yibo.

It was a good thing, he thought, an involuntary smile taking over his face. They’d made this trip to formalize the union, after all, and if Yibo was constantly occupying his thoughts, he hoped it meant something. There was definitely a draw between them, an electric physicality that Xiao Zhan wanted to explore.

Was it too soon to ask Yibo to do more than make out? It had been bold of Yibo to ask for that much yesterday, but he’d appreciated his forward nature. He’d been wanting to, himself, but a tour of an artwork gallery had hardly seemed the time or place.

Being confined to the salon for the remainder of the afternoon hadn’t afforded them any further opportunities, but he’d been able to get close to Yibo in another way. Watching him play weiqi had been very informative. He was bold to the point of being reckless, but decisive. Some of his plays had been so risky they’d made Xuan Lu play more conservatively and she had lost because of it. Xuan Lu was a graceful loser but had taken Yibo up on an offered rematch and beaten him the second time—his risky gambits weren’t always a route to victory. He’d won the third match, though, and worn a pleased grin.

Xiao Zhan wanted to ask Yibo to fuck him. Surely, he’d appreciate the boldness of such a move.

He just wasn’t sure whether he was bold enough to actually ask.

After checking the time and making sure that breakfast was set for the same time as the day before, Xiao Zhan burrowed into his nest of bedding and sought some release. He didn’t even try not to think about Yibo as he did it. If everything continued to go at the same pace between them, and he had every confidence it would after seeing Yibo’s weiqi matches the previous day, this was just a warm-up for the main event.

That morning it was Yibo who saved him a seat at the breakfast table and Xiao Zhan rewarded him with a smile that widened when Yibo blinked and a stunning grin spread over his face. The Henan prince was so beautiful, Xiao Zhan had really never had a chance.

He slipped into the seat beside Yibo who slid his foot into range, and Xiao Zhan pressed his against it right away in silent answer. He enjoyed every bit of tactile contact that Yibo shared with him.

Before they had come to Henan, Xiao Zhan had been worried because all the intelligence painted a picture of a cold, aloof young man who did not play well with others. He’d figured that would translate into an unwillingness to let Xiao Zhan close and touching would be out of the question.

Xiao Zhan was starting to realize Yibo was, in truth, a lonely youth who gravitated into his touch and must have been starved for the physical affection he was leaning into every time Xiao Zhan reached for him.

It softened his feelings for Yibo even more.

After breakfast, the entire family filed into a glass-walled sitting room with a spectacular view of the gradient gray skies and the rain drumming across the windows. The princesses settled down right away for a game of xiangqi but Yibo began to pace beyond the chairs.

Xiao Zhan had a brief word with his mother, letting her know he intended to spend the day with Yibo again, and she patted his hand and told him to get on with it. He tried to hide his smirk. They were getting on better than anyone might have suspected. Well, Lulu had probably figured him out. Xiao Zhan wasn’t exactly bothering to be subtle but the adults were wrapped up in their political and trade concerns.

He fell into step with Yibo as he made a corner around a pair of unoccupied chairs.

“I can pace with you,” Xiao Zhan offered. “But isn’t there something better we can do with our time?”

Yibo’s steps slowed and he sent a speculative glance Xiao Zhan’s way, biting his full pink lower lip.

Xiao Zhan patted his arm. “There has to be something active we can do.” He could feel the skin-crawling energy pent up in Yibo trying to bleed out and was surprised no one else looked unsettled.

The Henan crown princess raised her head from the xiangqi board. “Yibo, why don’t you show him the garage and carriage house?” she suggested.

“Oh. Yes…yes, I could do that,” Yibo replied, but went back to gnawing his lip, gazing sidelong at Xiao Zhan.

Xiao Zhan inclined his head in a nod.

“Let’s go,” Yibo announced, reaching over and taking his wrist to lead him out of the sitting room.

“You don’t much like being cooped inside, do you?” Xiao Zhan observed as they reached the wide-open hallway beyond the smaller room.

Yibo groaned. “I hate it. This is probably the longest I haven’t gone out for a ride in years,” he said.

“I’m sor—” Xiao Zhan began.

“Don’t say you’re sorry, Zhan-ge,” Yibo cut him off. “It’s not your fault. Truly. So I won’t have you apologize for it. It’s just, I’m so pent up I feel like I’m itching under my skin.”

“Well.” Xiao Zhan tugged his wrist out of Yibo’s large hand and laced their fingers together instead. “Let’s see what we can do about that, shall we?”

Yibo’s look was considerably brighter. “Mn.”

That day Yibo led him along a different route, the opposite direction through the palace compound from any direction they had been before. Xiao Zhan was going to have to hope he never got separated from Yibo because he was hopeless with directions and had been paying more attention to the lovely young man beside him than he had to where they’d been going.

They seemed to walk less of a distance than the day before, at least. Yibo led him through a tall, broad wooden door that opened onto a massive garage with vaulted ceilings even higher than the gallery. Xiao Zhan guessed it was two and a half stories at least, though all of the space seemed unnecessary given the cars themselves didn’t take up too much space. There were rows upon rows of those, lined up against the walls in neat stalls that kept each shining, expensive vehicle separate from its neighbor.

“Quite a collection,” Xiao Zhan commented, recognizing many international brands. There were a couple of small, compact Henan prototypes as well, but it was the expensive-looking German and English vehicles that stood out.

Yibo nodded. “My grandfather started it.” He led him past some that Xiao Zhan recognized as super limited edition—one of the Jaguars was one of only ten in the world—and toward a row of motorcycles penned into one corner. “These are mine.”

Xiao Zhan admired the nearest, a lean Ducati seated in a stand. It was a racing motorcycle, the kind that had no built-in kickstand. “You race?” His eyes cut toward Yibo.

His companion was regarding the bike with a melancholy expression. “I wanted to,” he replied. “I’m lucky my father even lets me ride these. When I talked about going pro, it was…made clear to me that wasn’t a realistic option for someone of my station.”

Xiao Zhan swallowed and squeezed his hand hard. “I know how that is,” he said. “When I finished college, I wanted to go into design. I was good at it, and it was something just for me, not connected to my title or my place in the royal line. And then I was informed the degree was a formality, because I had responsibilities in the family that had nothing to do with the expensive education I’d acquired for the mere sake of having a degree.”

Yibo bowed his head. “Yeah…that’s hard. When you have something for yourself, something you’re good at, you want to do something with it.”

Xiao Zhan turned to him. “We can see about you racing in Sichuan,” he said impulsively. “Even if it takes a few years. But if you’re willing to wait…”

Yibo put his head to the side, his mouth skewing in a rueful smirk. “Somehow, I think it’s going to be less allowed in Sichuan than it is here. Would security be okay with me riding on the roads?”

Xiao Zhan grimaced. “I don’t know,” he hedged. He knew that the answer was probably not. Their royal home wasn’t set apart from the city like the Henan compound, it was in the heart of the busy capital. Someone was bound to see a motorcycle go in and out, and there would be plenty of intelligence to identify the rider as Wang Yibo.

“I’ll get my riding in while I’m here,” Yibo concluded. “And we can always come visit when I’m getting nostalgic for the straightaways.”

That didn’t sit right with Xiao Zhan. “You shouldn’t have to give up something you love to come to Sichuan,” he objected, furrowing his brows. He held his breath in the next second, realizing he was speaking as though Yibo joining him in Sichuan was a foregone conclusion.

It made him realize he very much wanted it to be.

“Maybe there’s a track or something where you can ride,” he offered, feeling like it was a weak alternative but perhaps there would be a way.

Yibo surveyed his face as though judging his sincerity and gave him a slow nod, his full lips pushed out somewhat, not quite a pout. It was more a thoughtful expression. “I’d love to ride on a track,” he said with every evidence of sincerity. He tugged on Xiao Zhan’s hand. “Come on, there’s something else I wanted to show you.”

There was a small door inset in the wall beyond the motorcycles. Yibo drew him toward that.

They stepped through into what Xiao Zhan recognized was the carriage house: warm, gold and brown toned walls and décor, the smell of leather and cleaning solution, and racks of spare parts off to one side. Yibo guided him through an archway and around the corner and there was a den area with large brown leather couches, a flatscreen television against one wall, and a fireplace inset into another. It was far too warm for that and the hearth was dark. To their right, the room was lined with windows that were shuttered with wooden slat blinds. Yibo flipped the light on and the den was filled with a low amber light.

“Comfortable,” Xiao Zhan noted. All his mind seemed stuck on was how the couches were probably a great location to make out on.

“I kind of wish Meilin hadn’t _said_ to take you to the garage, so that no one would know that we’re here,” Yibo said pettishly, still holding his hand, bringing his other one over to play with Xiao Zhan’s fingers.

“So that we won’t be interrupted?” Xiao Zhan asked, looking over at him through his lashes.

Yibo gave a tentative nod. “That is, if you wanted to continue from yesterday…”

Xiao Zhan replied with a smile. “Very much so,” he said with feeling. And maybe, in the moment, he’d be bold enough to ask for what he wanted.

He let himself be led over to the nearest big brown leather couch, and Yibo seated himself without hesitation. Xiao Zhan sat beside him, raising his brows at the give of the leather, the way it almost poofed beneath him as he sat down, and managed to maintain his grip on Yibo’s hand.

It was almost cute, he thought in that instant; he felt like a kid again, holding hands with someone he liked very much. Afraid to crack open his chest and expose his heart, but yearning toward the person beside him.

Xiao Zhan lifted his head and found Yibo’s eyes on him. He nerved himself. 

“Yibo, you—” “Zhan-ge, do you—”

They both broke off and regarded one another with sheepish smiles. Xiao Zhan gave him a nod.

“Zhan-ge,” Yibo breathed. “Is it to soon to…” He trailed off and bit his lip.

Xiao Zhan’s eyes rounded. Yibo was stuck in exactly the same thought train. He ought to have known; he was young and he’d warned him the day before that he went from zero to one hundred. It helped that they were both very into each other if Xiao Zhan’s senses weren’t fooling him.

He’d thought someone had been into him before, but it turned out all they cared for was his money and position.

 _Yibo isn’t like that,_ he reminded himself. Yibo had money and a position of his own. And he’d been up front about being opposed to the match until he’d met him for real. Xiao Zhan squeezed down on Yibo’s hand and gathered his nerve again.

“Too soon to have sex?” he ventured, and Yibo nodded, his dark eyes fixed on him with full intensity. Xiao Zhan dissolved into a smile. “Not if we both want to.”

“Oh,” Yibo said. He hitched forward on the couch. It squeaked subtly beneath him and he slid on the cushion toward Xiao Zhan, who was sitting closer to the middle and creating somewhat of an incline in that direction. “I want to.”

Xiao Zhan moved forward, pulling Yibo even closer, his free hand sliding around his waist and resting there as he sought his mouth. Yibo’s lips settled against his at once. His mouth was trembling but the tongue that pressed against his without delay was eager as they both deepened the kiss right away.

Yibo was a natural at this, Xiao Zhan thought, dazed by it. He kissed with confidence, disentangling their hands, settling a broad palm on Xiao Zhan’s hip as they curled into one another and made out. He would probably be happy with another hour of this before they went further, even, but Yibo was crowding close making small noises in his throat that were so incredibly hot. Xiao Zhan found himself trying to climb into his lap, sliding his hand from the side of his waist to the small of his back. He slid a hand into Yibo’s pants. Yibo jerked against him and made a shocked, sexy noise against his mouth.

“I want to suck your cock,” Xiao Zhan said suddenly when they surfaced from the kiss. It was all he could think about. He really, really wanted his mouth on Yibo’s dick. He hadn’t even felt it press against him yet but he wanted to go down on him.

“Yes,” Yibo said without hesitation. He stroked from Xiao Zhan’s hip up his side. “Yes, yes please.”

Xiao Zhan grinned at him and kissed him again. “That’s what it takes to get a ‘please’ from this beautiful, aloof highness, huh?”

Yibo rolled his eyes and pursed his lips. “Well, if you don’t want to…” he began in a huffy tone, starting to pull his hand away. Xiao Zhan chuckled and caught it, kissing his palm before releasing his wrist.

“I want to,” Xiao Zhan replied, settling into a serious expression. He lowered his head a bit, locking eyes with Yibo.

Yibo sat up a little straighter, licking his lips. “Yeah?” he said hoarsely.

Xiao Zhan nodded, shifting back and putting his hands on Yibo’s thighs. His voice caught in his throat before he could add, _very much_ , but he thought his gesture probably sufficed.

Yibo’s eyes gleamed at him in the low lighting of the carriage house den and he leaned back, the movement tentative but offering himself.

That made Xiao Zhan duck his head to hide a grin. He focused on undoing Yibo’s slacks, skimming his hand over the beginnings of a bulge that was plumping up against the front. Yibo shifted as if he’d lift up for Xiao Zhan to take his pants off and Xiao Zhan put a firm hand on his hip, stilling him. He could work Yibo out of his boxer briefs and he had every intention of swallowing. He wasn’t going to spill a drop on either the leather couch or the expensive slacks.

He slid off the couch onto his knees and tugged Yibo’s body toward him into a half-reclining position. Yibo gasped and let himself be moved, hands hovering close to his shoulders as though he didn’t know where to touch.

“You can put a hand on my shoulder or in my hair,” Xiao Zhan murmured, tender with the hesitance in those gestures.

Yibo nodded and bit his lip, doing both. One hand settled beside his neck, elegant fingers curled where shoulder met the side of it, and the other worked into his hair with the lightest touch.

Xiao Zhan breathed in, already smelling the scent of Yibo’s arousal so close to his nose, the heady natural musk that reached him through the boxer-briefs exposed by the undone zip. He ran his hand over the shape of the stirring cock imprisoned in those boxer-briefs, enjoying the catch of Yibo’s breath, the way Yibo’s cock pushed against his hand in answer. There was only one first time for this, and Xiao Zhan had every intention of savoring it.

He worked his thumb and forefinger into the slit and found him, the velvety-pliable flesh of his thickening cock. He finessed it toward him, working Yibo out of his boxers through the gap in his boxer-briefs. His eyes rounded. It was wider than his, and longer, and Xiao Zhan had the impression it was still swelling into fullness.

Well, that meant he’d better get his mouth around it before it was too much.

He glanced up the length of Yibo’s body and caught his eyes. Yibo’s mouth was open; he wasn’t panting yet, but his chest rose and fell in quick stirring breaths. His eyes were fixed on Xiao Zhan, huge and dark. His fingers stroked Xiao Zhan’s neck.

Xiao Zhan lowered his head again and took the head of it into his mouth, flicking his tongue against the underside, and savoring the first beads of pre-come as they began to well and burst across his tongue.

Yibo cried out, fingers tensing against his neck and carding through his hair.

Xiao Zhan pursed his lips, drawing Yibo deeper into his mouth and enjoying the salty fresh taste of him. He was clean, maybe a hint remaining of soap from a morning wash and tasted simply of sex, maleness, and the unique mix that meant Yibo. He was half tempted to close his eyes and give himself over to enjoyment, but he wanted to see the effect his mouth had on Yibo, too.

He compromised with half-veiled eyes, gazing up at Yibo through his lashes as he used his hand to work Yibo deeper into his mouth.

Yibo groaned and spread his legs under him. Xiao Zhan shifted to accommodate his widened stance, trying not to think about how badly he wanted Yibo to fuck him. He really hoped Yibo would be into that. 

He looked up at Yibo and sucked on his cock. A pleased thrum started up in his belly, settling into his groin when Yibo cupped the side of his face, thumb moving over his cheekbone. He loved the weight of him on his tongue, in his mouth, and tried to take him further, choking a little when his gag reflex tickled at him. He pulled off and Yibo’s hand retracted from his hair; he used it for leverage to half sit up.

“Are you okay?” Yibo asked anxiously.

“Fine, fine.” Xiao Zhan wrinkled his nose. “A little overambitious.” He didn’t want to say, _it’s been a while;_ he was too mannered to refer to previous lovers and hoped very much this one would be his last.

Yibo subsided back onto the couch, his fingers stroking his cheek. He kept a wary eye on Xiao Zhan, who gave him a reassuring smile before putting his mouth back on Yibo’s cock.

He found the sweet spot, sucking Yibo into his mouth as far as he could take him and pulling up and down over it, his hand taking up the remainder. Yibo was too big to fit in his mouth without deep-throating and he wasn’t up for that today. He smelled and tasted like heaven, though, and Xiao Zhan did his best to make it last, bobbing up and down in a pleasant daze until Yibo began to squirm under him. His sac was tight and full under his hand and his beautiful cock was so hard in his mouth, dripping pre-come every time he let it pop from between his lips.

“Zhan-ge,” Yibo warned him, hoarse and strained.

“Come,” Xiao Zhan urged him. He used his hand to push Yibo between his lips again.

Yibo groaned low and loud and his hips started to move; he tensed and remained still. Xiao Zhan wanted to urge him on, wanted to cup his hands over Yibo’s ass and use leverage to shove him into his mouth, but he was also worried about making a mess of himself and trying to take too much on. Yibo was…a lot. He had Xiao Zhan’s ideal dick, maybe a little too big to suck comfortably, but plenty to enjoy in another context if Yibo was up for that.

He worked his tongue over and under the head of Yibo’s cock, hand moving eager and fast.

Yibo cried out again and his hand curled at the hinge of Xiao Zhan’s jaw. He made a deep, wordless noise and his release began to spill into Xiao Zhan’s mouth.

He swallowed it, drew back and opened his mouth as Yibo kept coming, thick white spurts landing on his tongue, and swallowed again. He nursed at the tip of his cock until he was sure he got all of it.

Yibo panted beneath him and caressed his face. “Wow,” he uttered, and it sounded like _waow_ , and unutterable fondness suffused Xiao Zhan’s entire being as he climbed back up onto the couch, tucking Yibo’s dick back into his boxer-briefs and patting it. Yibo held out an arm, flushed and bright-eyed, and Xiao Zhan nestled against him, laying his head on Yibo’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure whether Yibo would want kisses right after Xiao Zhan had swallowed his come.

After a bit, Yibo dropped a kiss to his hair and murmured another soft _waow_ and began to stroke Xiao Zhan’s arm. “That was so good,” he said. “How can I make you feel good?”

“Whatever you want,” Xiao Zhan mumbled, rubbing his hand over Yibo’s inner thigh. He meant it; he wanted to stick to Yibo’s comfort level, and he knew he’d be happy with whatever Yibo wanted to do for him. He had no doubts Yibo was going to make him come. A hand job would probably be the most familiar introduction.

“I want to do the same to you,” Yibo said at once, shocking him.

“Yibo? You sure?” Xiao Zhan asked, lifting his face from Yibo’s neck.

Yibo’s brows were set in a determined slant. “Lie back on the couch? It’s long enough, I think.”

Xiao Zhan blinked and sat up with a slow nod. He felt like he was in a dream. Before he could start to scoot back, Yibo caught him with a hand at the back of his neck and drew him in for a kiss. He didn’t hesitate to part his lips with his tongue, no doubt tasting himself, and he kissed Xiao Zhan thoroughly before letting him go. He licked his lips and gave a little nose wrinkle.

It made Xiao Zhan want to laugh; it was cute but still somehow sexy. Probably because he knew Yibo was tasting himself.

“It’s an acquired taste,” he assured him.

Yibo raised a brow and gave him a cheeky smirk. “I haven’t tasted yours yet,” he said, and Xiao Zhan scrambled back with a shocked laugh.

He settled back against the thick, wide pillow on the opposite end of the couch, letting his legs fall apart, and watched Yibo crawl toward him. There was a hunger in his face that thrilled him and assured him that Yibo was doing this because he wanted it, not merely to even the score. Yibo’s big hands undid his trousers and tugged them part way down his thighs as he settled his weight on Xiao Zhan’s legs. There was a tension in his expression, Xiao Zhan thought as he lowered his face toward his groin, but his hands were eager as they delved into his briefs and pulled him out from the waistband, not bothering to navigate through the slit.

“Ahh,” the sound left Xiao Zhan, and he almost startled himself. Yibo didn’t even look up, seeming fascinated by Xiao Zhan’s cock in his hand.

“It’s so pretty,” Yibo said, moving his finely shaped fingers up and down it, and Xiao Zhan swallowed a laugh. His lower belly tightened, and his cock got harder in Yibo’s hand.

“It’s about average,” Xiao Zhan replied modestly and brought his hand up to shield his face from the glare that Yibo aimed his way.

“Zhan-ge, this is the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen,” Yibo insisted, and Xiao Zhan was definitely _not_ going to ask him how many he’d seen in his life. Porn was freely available to everyone, let alone royalty, after all.

Xiao Zhan settled for a noncommittal noise and tried not to hold his breath as Yibo brought it close to his face, eyes flicking up to his, and drew the head between his lips. His tongue flicked over the head in a brief, tentative touch before the flat of it swiped and pressed against him firmly. Xiao Zhan’s eyes fluttered but he managed to keep his eyes open on the gorgeous sight of Yibo’s lips pursed around his cock. With even this much, he was sure he could die a happy man.

Only a few days ago he hadn’t wanted to come to Henan. Now he was lying here in the carriage house tangled up with the prince and he wanted to gather this beautiful youth into his arms and never let go.

A small sound was pulled out of him as Yibo licked the underside of his cock, grew bolder, and sucked him into his mouth until the head pressed against something soft and tight. Before Xiao Zhan could warn him he felt Yibo swallow, and moaned at the swirl of suction around the head of his cock. He was able to hold himself very still as Yibo struggled with that valiantly; his eyes went wide, and his throat clicked. He pulled off, coughing, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. His other hand kept Xiao Zhan in a gentle grip.

“S-sorry,” Yibo said, and Xiao Zhan ran a finger alongside his jaw.

“Don’t be sorry,” he replied. “You don’t need to try to do everything at once, you know.”

Yibo’s eyes glinted up at him and Xiao Zhan had the sense he’d made a mistake; that his words of reassurance had been perceived as a challenge.

Xiao Zhan lapsed back onto the cushion beside him with a moan as Yibo’s full lips closed over his cock again, lapping over the head before sucking him in. His fingers moved over the base and Xiao Zhan struggled to keep his hips still as the head of his cock touched the back of Yibo’s throat again.

This time when Yibo swallowed, his eyes shut and he took Xiao Zhan’s cock all the way down, bobbing on it in shallow but decisive strokes. There were tears springing at the corners of his eyes and Xiao Zhan was helpless to do anything but moan and hold still as Yibo took his cock into the tight channel of his throat. He pulled off it, flushed and triumphant, and kissed the head of his cock, giving Xiao Zhan a sly look.

Xiao Zhan didn’t know whether to laugh or push his cock back into his mouth. “You absolutely have to win every challenge, don’t you?” he demanded, breathless.

“Mm-hmm,” Yibo replied and opened his mouth again.

Xiao Zhan inclined his hips up and Yibo resumed sucking his cock, looking very pleased with himself. His tongue kept doing a _thing_ against the underside with each upstroke. He tried to swallow him again and Xiao Zhan groaned, tugging on his hair. Yibo rose up and popped his lips off, licking the tip, making Xiao Zhan’s cock twitch.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned him.

“That’s the point,” Yibo said. He took him back into his mouth.

He couldn’t even shake his head fondly; he had to concentrate on not fucking Yibo’s face for his first time giving a blow job. He rested a hand at the back of Yibo’s head as he sucked again, mouth contracting on him in a particularly lewd slurp, his tongue working and his fingers quickening. Between that and the sight of that beautiful face and rounded lips wrapped around his cock, Xiao Zhan was lost. He spilled his load with a choked cry, and Yibo rose up in time to avoid the involuntary upswing of his hips as he came—and kept coming.

He probably should have warned Yibo in more specific terms.

He stroked Yibo’s face and grimaced as Yibo struggled to swallow his load. Xiao Zhan tended to come a lot. For someone who was brand new to sex, it was probably too much to handle.

Yibo kept sucking, though, and kept swallowing, a determined glint in his eye as he met Xiao Zhan’s gaze.

Xiao Zhan petted his cheek and Yibo nuzzled into it. When he pulled off at last, he licked the head one final time, kissed the tip, and crawled up the couch to deposit himself in Xiao Zhan’s arms.

“Was it okay?” Yibo asked right away, angling his head to look up at him. He pushed his face into Xiao Zhan’s neck the next second as though he couldn’t make eye contact while hearing the answer.

“Baobei, it was so good,” Xiao Zhan replied, arms tightening around him. “Was it really your first…?”

Yibo shook his head yes. “Lack of opportunity,” he said. He huffed softly. “And desire. I’m picky.”

Xiao Zhan tried not to glow at that admission, because it meant by default Yibo found him desirable.

“I want _you_ this much,” Yibo clarified. “So I want to make it good.”

Xiao Zhan’s heart unfurled that much more.

“It was so good, I wouldn’t have thought it was your first,” Xiao Zhan assured him, squeezing his waist. “We’re not going to be bothered any time soon, are we?”

“I don’t think so; we can stay here a while,” Yibo replied. He lifted up, twisting to look him in the face, and favored him with a sly smile. “Why; you wanna do it again?”

“Yibo!” Xiao Zhan exclaimed, but he supposed he had no right to be shocked when his dick was still outside his underwear. “Really? …Maybe.”

There were worse ways to spend a rainy afternoon than teaching one’s future husband how best to suck one’s cock.

***

The next day was another dull, rainy day but Wang Yibo woke with a huge smile on his face and the exultant certainty that whatever the agenda held in store, he’d be able to spend more time at Xiao Zhan’s side. He laid abed reminiscing over their time in the carriage house den the day before. He’d never really spent much time imagining the act of sucking cock; most of his vague fantasies had involved kissing and penetrative sex. He was a little surprised he’d enjoyed sucking Xiao Zhan’s cock so much all he could think about was doing it again.

The protestation from Xiao Zhan that he had merely an average cock made Yibo indignant for the beautiful blushing shaft he’d gotten his fingers wrapped around. It was a perfect length, uniform width along its entirety, with a lovely red head that fit into his mouth just so. He’d been fascinated by the way it looked so red, a dark red with a hint of dusky brown when it was full and hard. If not for the limitations of time and his body, he thought he could have gone on sucking it for hours.

So, Yibo might be a little obsessed with cock now in addition to his prospective fiancé. 

He was quick in the shower, jerking off just to take the edge off, rushing into another set of designer casual clothes. Given the weather as well as his father’s limitations it was a sure bet that nothing had been planned again outside of the negotiations that would keep the monarchs and their advisors closeted up all day.

He was early enough in hurrying to the solar for breakfast that day he ended up meeting Xiao Zhan along the way.

“Oh! Careful,” Xiao Zhan said with a chuckle, reaching out to catch him by the shoulders as they came to a near collision when he rounded a corner. He tipped a brief but warm smile Yibo’s way. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Xiao Prince,” Yibo greeted him, trying to keep his smile under relative containment, but it bloomed under the warmth of Xiao Zhan’s regard.

“Xiao Prince! I’m cut. You’ve scored a hit; I’m wounded,” Xiao Zhan declared, putting a dramatic hand to his chest.

“Pfft,” Yibo responded, putting his fingers over Xiao Zhan’s wrist and drawing it away. “I’m simply paying the courtesy due your age.”

Xiao Zhan’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped. “Wang Yibo!”

Yibo lost it. He bent toward Xiao Zhan, cackling, holding on tight to his wrist to keep him close.

“You are a menace!” Xiao Zhan accused him, putting the heel of his hand against Yibo’s shoulder. “I’m only six years older than you!”

“I know; we’d better move faster, or we won’t be married until you’re middle-aged,” Yibo continued, his grin widening.

Xiao Zhan squawked and tried to wrench his wrist out of Yibo’s grip. Instead, he ended up taking a step toward him as Yibo tugged, lifting his free hand to secure and tug on Xiao Zhan’s ear.

Damn, when a man’s ears were beautiful to him, Yibo was either in love or this man was simply beyond compare.

“You’re worse than a menace,” Xiao Zhan hissed, flushed, as Yibo pulled him closer. “Are you even human?”

“Kiss me and find out,” Yibo offered, and from the way Xiao Zhan narrowed his eyes, he was certain he was going to get bitten when he closed the distance to put his mouth in range.

Xiao Zhan kissed him, parting his lips with his own, and did bite down on his bottom lip. It wasn’t too sharp, though, and when Yibo huffed his laughter into the kiss, Xiao Zhan released him and licked into his mouth. The kiss was brief but heated, and it made Yibo’s stomach tighten. He was sure his own ears had to be burning when Xiao Zhan pulled away.

“Now greet me properly, you menace,” Xiao Zhan told him, hand still curled at his shoulder.

Yibo let go of his ear and pretended to smooth out his immaculately pressed shirt. “Good morning, Zhan-ge,” he said, favoring him with an impish grin.

“That’s better,” Xiao Zhan said, mollified. “Let’s go get breakfast.”

Yibo wanted to walk into the solar holding hands, if only to see the kind of reaction that would generate amongst his family, but he released Xiao Zhan and kept a discreet distance between them as they entered. Xiao Zhan sent a curious glance his way but said nothing.

The Wang and Xiao Monarchs were the only ones who had made it to the solar before them, validating Yibo’s choice to stand apart from his intended. He was going to keep his father on edge until the last possible instant. The monarchs both looked up as Yibo and Xiao Zhan entered the room, straightening in their seats. Wang Monarch had a sour expression fixed on his features, making Yibo glad yet again that he took more after his mother in looks. He gestured toward the wealth of empty seats, gave them a curt greeting, and turned back to Xiao Monarch.

“No, that’s ridiculous. We’ll need both our ministers of economics to weigh in—”

Yibo tuned him out and drew a nearby chair for Xiao Zhan, placing them at the foot of the table, far from the negotiating monarchs. He had zero interest in their proceedings so long as they culminated in a formal engagement ceremony.

“Do you feel sometimes like we’re a pair of prized horses they’re making a deal over?” Xiao Zhan whispered to him.

Yibo reached out and squeezed his hand under the table. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, scrunching his nose up. “As long as we get each other out of the deal, that’s all I care about now.”

Xiao Zhan blinked and seemed to sag toward him for a second before he snapped up, straightening his spine. “Yibo,” he said in a complaining tone. “You can’t tease me so mercilessly one moment, then say something so heart-melting in the next. I’ll get whiplash.”

“It’s all right, Xiao Prince. I’ll massage your aging neck tendons,” Yibo promised, putting on a solemn expression, and broke into a snicker when Xiao Zhan pinched him.

They served up breakfast for one another, mala noodles for Xiao Zhan, congee for Yibo, sides of scallion pancakes and chive and egg dumplings for both of them.

Yibo shook his head with fascination as he watched Xiao Zhan slurp up the red-tinted soup noodles. “How can you eat something so hot?”

Xiao Zhan looked at him and winked. “It’s a warm-up.”

Yibo rolled his lips in, eyes wide. He was sure his ears had to be scarlet as his mother and sister walked in. His mother gave the back of his head an affectionate hair-ruffling in passing; Meilin smacked his neck.

“Hey!” he complained, glaring at her. “What was that for?”

“I’m sure it was for something,” she shot back. “I’ll bet Xiao Prince could tell me.”

“He could, but he won’t,” Yibo muttered, smug.

Meilin kept suspicious eyes narrowed his way but went to sit with their mother closer to the head of the table.

Yibo wondered how soon he could move out of Henan. Maybe the Xiao family would take him with them.

“I see,” Xiao Zhan murmured beside him.

“What,” Yibo said, head snapping back toward Xiao Zhan. He examined his face anxiously. “See what?”

Xiao Zhan gave him an innocent smile and headshake. “Finish your breakfast and we’ll see if they have anything planned for us today.”

After breakfast, it was no surprise to learn there was no itinerary for anyone but the Wang and Xiao monarchs again. Yibo discovered this when they were escorted yet again to the salon and left to stare at one another across lacquered game boards.

“I’m going to drown myself in the rooftop pond,” Yibo declared flatly as he watched the princesses seat themselves next to a weiqi board looking happy as they began to chat with one another and their mothers.

“No, you’re not,” Xiao Zhan said, catching his elbow in a firm grip.

“No, you will not,” a masculine voice confirmed behind them, and Yibo turned with Xiao Zhan doing a sort of pirouette beside him to maneuver the turn with him.

“Han-ge!” Yibo’s face lit up. “Save us. I can’t believe they planned absolutely no activities for the rest of the delegation.”

Wang Han shook his head slightly back and forth, looking as though he couldn’t believe it either before his expression smoothed into his usual professional demeanor. “I am so sorry about that, your highness.”

“Don’t be sorry when it wasn’t your fault,” Yibo replied. “It’s not like you were in charge of planning the itinerary.” Wang Han was in admin and intelligence.

“I’ve asked for the home theatre to be fired up today for your use, if you’d like to watch a movie,” Wang Han said. “There’s a good selection on hand, and we just received _The Winding Journey of the Dragon and the Fox-Spirit_ , if you’re interested.”

“Oh,” Yibo said, and glanced sidelong at Xiao Zhan, who brightened at the mention of that title.

“We haven’t even received that yet,” Xiao Zhan commented, eyes meeting Yibo’s. “Yes, if you’d like to.”

Yibo nodded. He was willing to bet even if he was bored, Xiao Zhan would allow him to entertain himself. Well, maybe. There was probably some limit to the indulgences Xiao Zhan extended him, and he would run up against it sooner or later.

“Ladies?” Wang Han asked, extending the offer of the film viewing to the rest of the salon, but received headshakes from the remaining royalty and the pair of female attendants. He turned his smile back on Yibo and Xiao Zhan. “A viewing for two, coming right up. They’ll start projection once you’re seated.”

“Thank you,” Yibo said with feeling. “Han-ge, you’re a lifesaver. Did they really think everyone would want to play weiqi for two weeks straight?”

“I don’t think much thought was put into it at all, your highness,” Wang Han replied, clapping his shoulder. “What with the gala coming up tomorrow and all.”

Yibo groaned and slumped his shoulders. “The best birthday gift they could give to me would be _not_ to hold a gala,” he complained.

“Once you’re twenty-one, you’re eligible for marriage, so I’m sure they thought it was rather fitting, didi,” Wang Han said with cheer. He gave them a respectful bow and departed.

Xiao Zhan still had hold of his elbow and gave his arm a consoling pat. “I’ll be there with you, Yibo.”

Yibo gave a grateful nod, guiding him out of the salon. “Just, if there are girls there, keep them away from me, all right?”

Xiao Zhan laughed and took his arm. “What? Why?”

“They always want to dance with me because I’m good at it, and they all seem to think I have to be interested in them for some reason,” Yibo said plaintively. “So because of that, the only girls I like are the ones who don’t like me _that way_. Which is one ambassador’s daughter, Cheng Xiao; one gentry family’s senior wife, Zhao Liying; and my sister. Everyone else looks like they want to eat me with a spoon—spoon optional.”

Xiao Zhan looked as though he was valiantly trying to suppress a laugh as they began to walk down the wide hallway. He took Yibo’s hand and patted it with the other. “I’ll protect your honor at the gala, Yibo.”

Yibo gulped in a relieved breath. He knew it had been offered with warmth and humor, but he instinctively grasped it as a promise he could count on. Xiao Zhan, as his intended, even had the right and expectation to monopolize his attention at the gala unlike any other public function Yibo had attended before.

“I suppose in someone’s mind, it made sense not to plan anything leading up to the gala,” Xiao Zhan said as they walked up the corridor. “They gave us a few days to relax and settle in. It’s really the days after the gala where people will want a break to recover and rest, I think.”

“Guarantee you the day after the gala no one will be leaving their rooms until the afternoon,” Yibo said wryly. He’d attended plenty enough to know. He’d overindulged himself, a time or two, but found no personal fun or engagement in drinking too much. He had no plans to have more than a drink or two at his birthday gala tomorrow.

“I don’t know what your plans are for social drinking, but you might not want to drink too much tomorrow night,” Xiao Zhan said, cocking a brow at him.

It was like they were on the same brain wave. “Oh?” Yibo prompted, curious what his reasoning was.

“Mm-hmm, because then I wouldn’t be able to unwrap you,” Xiao Zhan said.

Yibo blinked for a second. He cracked up. “Oh wow. Wow! That’s so cheesy!”

Xiao Zhan looked caught between a cringe and a laugh of his own. “Um…”

“I like it,” Yibo announced, cutting off his laughter and squeezing Xiao Zhan’s hand. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on having more than a couple of champagne flutes.”

“Then, good,” Xiao Zhan said with an owlish blink.

“Besides, I’m kind of a rowdy drunk and I don’t want to do that tomorrow,” Yibo added.

“I just pass out,” Xiao Zhan replied with a half shrug. “One drink is pretty much my limit because of that.”

“I think I remember you saying you had low tolerance,” Yibo said with a nod. They were about halfway down the corridor and the next left would take them to the home theatre. If they kept going and took a right, they would be on the way to his room. He gave Xiao Zhan a sidelong glance, licking his lip. “Do you want a tour of my room first, before we go see the movie?”

He had trouble reading Xiao Zhan’s expressions sometimes, but this one was easy. Xiao Zhan’s posture warmed, and he leaned in toward him, eyes dilating. His tongue ran over his lower lip. “A tour of your room?”

“Mn,” Yibo confirmed.

“Then, yeah,” Xiao Zhan breathed.

Yibo grinned and quickened his step. As usual, Xiao Zhan kept pace with him easily.

They didn’t quite run.

They did get to Yibo’s suite in an expedited manner. He yanked the door open, pulled Xiao Zhan through, and crowded him up against the inside of his pale wood-paneled door.

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan breathed. He opened his mouth to his kisses.

“Want to see you naked,” Yibo said against his parted lips and kissed him again.

They made out up against the door. He was getting the hang of this, Yibo decided smugly in a pause between kisses as he admired Xiao Zhan’s reddened lips, slick from their kissing. His eyes looked blown and his hands flexed on Yibo’s lips.

“Ah…yes…yes, let’s get naked,” Xiao Zhan said, surging up for another kiss.

Half tangled up in one other, they began to pull each other’s clothes off. They had to detach at least partially to strip, and Xiao Zhan giggled as he got caught with his shirt halfway over his head. Yibo peeled it off and ran his hands over all the smooth golden-tan toned skin he revealed.

“I want to…Yibo, will you…” Xiao Zhan began as Yibo crowded up against him for another hot kiss.

“Hm? Anything,” Yibo said, kissing the mole under Xiao Zhan’s lip. He meant it. He would do anything Xiao Zhan wanted. He was a blank tablet waiting for all of Xiao Zhan’s favorites to get loaded onto him.

Xiao Zhan pulled back enough to make eye contact. “Will you fuck me?” Xiao Zhan asked hopefully, hands playing with the top line of his trousers, thumbing at the button in front.

Yibo’s eyes flared. He tightened his grip on Xiao Zhan and pressed up against him, hands going to his ass to pull their bodies taut together. He was pretty sure that would show him exactly how eager he was to fulfill his request. Xiao Zhan chuckled and brought his mouth to Yibo’s for another kiss.

“Take that as a yes,” he murmured against Yibo’s mouth the next time they separated. He finished undoing his trousers and pushed them down below Yibo’s hips; that was all it took to get them to fall.

They had to separate for Yibo to strip his shirt off, which he tossed carelessly to one side. Rumpled clothes were unimportant to him when he could have a naked Xiao Zhan in his bed. “Yes—Zhan-ge, are you sure?” He curved one of his hands around Xiao Zhan’s waist; the man shivered and stepped closer to him.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Xiao Zhan replied, voice hoarse. “Ever since that day we made out in the gallery.”

Yibo’s eyes widened. He’d definitely been thinking about Xiao Zhan in a sexy context since that day. “No, I mean…isn’t it easier if you…do that to me, first?”

Xiao Zhan tipped his head to one side. “Would you rather?” He looked uncertain.

Yibo paused, took a deep breath, and patted his own cheeks. He squared his shoulders. “Zhan-ge. I would be overjoyed to be inside you. I just want to make sure it’s what you really want.”

That caused a slow, almost devilish smile to spread across Xiao Zhan’s beautiful face and he sent a hand skimming down Yibo’s abs to grab at the waistband of his boxer-briefs. “Wang Yibo. So we’re clear, I _definitely_ want you in me.”

“Okay.” Yibo nodded. “I really want that, too.”

They grinned at one another, leaned in, and it turned into another kiss. This one started out slow, easy, then Xiao Zhan gasped against Yibo’s mouth, Yibo tugged him closer with the hand around his waist, and they made out frantically as they stumbled toward Yibo’s enormous bed. Somehow, they discarded the rest of their clothing on the way over, and Yibo managed to get his socks off as they climbed over the edge.

“I hope you have lube,” Xiao Zhan said, clinging to him and plastering a sloppy kiss near the hinge of his jaw.

“Zhan-ge, I’m a twenty-year old man,” Yibo replied. He left the ‘gay’ unsaid; Xiao Zhan already knew he was into men, and he presumed even straight ones might explore that part of their anatomy. “Of course I have lube.” He even had some in the nightstand and some in his bathroom.

He was glad a question about condoms didn’t follow. He didn’t have any, and they were supposed to get engaged to be married by the end of the visit. He shouldn’t presume anything, but he knew Xiao Zhan would mention it if there was a concern in that direction.

That briefly made him wonder how long Xiao Zhan had been celibate, because he wasn’t dumb enough to think the other prince had no experience, but Yibo’s thoughts about that were swept away as Xiao Zhan tugged him in for another kiss as they lowered themselves to the bed together.

Even just kissing Xiao Zhan while naked and pressed up against all that smooth, supple skin was enough to bring Yibo to the edge. He kept having to angle his hips away from pressing his cock against Xiao Zhan’s belly. Too much friction and he was going to blow like some kid’s premature science volcano.

“Yibo, Yibo,” Xiao Zhan said against his mouth, and Yibo stroked at his hip and kissed that full bottom lip again.

“Zhan-ge,” Yibo responded. “Tell me what to do?”

“Get the lube,” Xiao Zhan said. He made a small, needy noise as Yibo disentangled himself and got up to reach for his nightstand.

“What? Zhan-ge can keep kissing me, or I can get the lube.” He grinned down at him when Xiao Zhan responded with a little whine and had to place a quick, off-center kiss on those pouting wet lips. He patted Xiao Zhan’s side as he half climbed over him to reach his nightstand drawer but returned triumphant, holding up the bottle for inspection.

“Good brand,” Xiao Zhan commented and raised a speculative brow.

Yibo tried not to flush but knew from the heat in his face he was probably doing so anyhow. “Shut up, I requisition stuff and it appears in my room in bags.”

Xiao Zhan chuckled and petted him. “You know how fingering works?”

“Yeah, just…not on someone else,” Yibo replied, making a face. He kissed Xiao Zhan’s mouth again, then his chin, then began to work his way down his body, kissing whatever parts interested him along the way. His nipple was worth some attention: a dark, almost flat coin that perked up to a nub, especially when he pulled on it with his teeth. Xiao Zhan really seemed to like that, so he reminded himself to do more of it later. There was some nice definition from his ribs to below his belly button, not body builder levels of cut but perfect for Yibo’s tastes. His Zhan-ge kept himself in shape, and Yibo liked that. He licked around his navel and nuzzled down the trail of hair that connected it to his groin, nosing into a thatch of neatly trimmed wiry dark hair. It surrounded that perfect red cock that was already starting to stand up for him.

Yibo had to take a slightly longer detour there and pull on it a few times, making Xiao Zhan whine again and arch his back.

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan uttered, sounding a little desperate. “Please, baobei.”

“Okay, okay,” Yibo replied, not quite grumbling. He palmed his balls out of the way and trailed a finger down the strip of perineum to the dusky rose pucker that awaited him. Xiao Zhan drew his knees up and adjusted his position, pushing himself up and out to put it more on display, and Yibo pulled in a slow breath. He had to go in with caution, he reminded himself. He was already way too excited.

He lubed up his finger and stroked over it with care, circling inward until the little pucker opened for him with gentle pressure. Yibo glanced up, checking Xiao Zhan’s face to see how he was doing, and received an approving nod. Xiao Zhan’s face was tense even if his body wasn’t; his brows were creased and his mouth rolled into a flat line. His body opened up easily enough to Yibo’s finger, though, and he made a very favorable sound as Yibo began to work it in and out.

“That’s it,” Xiao Zhan whispered. “That’s great, Yibo. You can add another, just…be careful.”

Yibo nodded, pulling his finger nearly all the way out, fitting his middle finger beside it, and coating both with more lube. He worked both of them in, taking his time to stretch the rim enough to fit both fingers side by side. It was very similar to doing it to himself, but the angle was so much easier that Yibo had to remind himself not to shove it right in. Xiao Zhan’s body seemed to want to yield for him.

That made Yibo sit forward on the bed a little more, taking his free hand from Xiao Zhan’s naked thigh to adjust his cock.

What they were doing hit him like a fist from heaven in that second. He had two fingers buried inside of Xiao Zhan, and he was kneeling between his legs preparing him to take his dick. Yibo’s breath sped up and his hips pulsed forward.

The next part happened like it was in slow motion. Yibo gazed down into Xiao Zhan’s beautiful face, their eyes connecting. His fingers pushed in and out of his tight but somehow yielding body, pads dragging across the silken inner walls that he was already imagining around his dick. A groan escaped his lips as he thrust forward, helpless to what was already happening as his dick throbbed once, twice, and he came all over his quilted comforter and the join of Xiao Zhan’s pelvis and thigh.

“Oh, no,” Yibo whispered, utterly mortified. Nothing had prepared him for this.

Xiao Zhan bit his lip, eyes wide.

Yibo looked down at his hand. His fingers were still embedded in Xiao Zhan’s body. He wondered very much if he’d mind if he pulled them out gently, rolled himself up in the comforter, and disappeared underneath the bed.

“Yibo, it’s okay,” Xiao Zhan said, reaching for him, fingertips managing to brush over Yibo’s forearm.

“What? It’s not okay, I just—”

“It’s okay,” Xiao Zhan insisted. “Keep going. I’ll bet you by the time you have a third finger moving easily in me, you’ll be ready.” He gave him a crooked smile.

Yibo stared at him for a second longer but began to nod. It was the best thing he’d heard since Xiao Zhan had invited him to fuck him. He was right—Yibo would definitely be hard again soon. It wasn’t like it took him long under normal circumstances, and now he had a gorgeous naked man sprawled out under him, taking two of his fingers. “Yes. All right.”

Xiao Zhan gave him a heart-stopping smile and blew him a kiss. “See? Okay.”

Yibo absently caught it, pretended to eat it, and resumed his focus on the two fingers he was working in and out of Xiao Zhan. In a way it was a relief. He’d already taken off some of the pressure, so he wasn’t distracted by his dick or how close he was as he moved his fingers within Xiao Zhan, stroking, changing the angle, pressing into him in a different way.

He started to search for the prostate; he’d never been able to find it successfully on himself despite his long fingers. He rubbed one way, then another, curving along the inner wall.

When Xiao Zhan yelped, Yibo twitched and started to pull his fingers out.

“Put it back, put them _back_ ,” Xiao Zhan moaned, and Yibo hastily complied.

“Good?” he wondered.

“Prostate,” Xiao Zhan whispered, angling his hips and squeezing onto his fingers.

Yibo bit off a curse. He was lucky he’d already come once. Just imagining that around his cock was making it stir again. He pushed his fingers all the way in, watching Xiao Zhan’s face. The tension in his face bled away all at once and his eyes fluttered. He moaned again, and Yibo thought he could detect a difference, or maybe he was imagining it. He rubbed against the inner wall, pushing his finger in, and Xiao Zhan gave a stuttered moan.

“Ah…ohh,” he uttered, opening his eyes and fixing Yibo with a commanding stare. “Put another one in.”

Yibo grinned at him and nodded, flicking his tongue against his lip.

He used more lube and more caution. He worked the third finger into Xiao Zhan slower than he ever would for himself, keeping a hand on his thigh to gauge the tension in his body while he watched his face as it sank in. When Xiao Zhan just…opened up and took the third finger, Yibo’s cock twitched.

Oh yeah. It wasn’t going to be an issue.

Xiao Zhan laid back and sighed, one arm tucking behind his head and his legs falling open a little wider as he kept his dark, heated gaze on Yibo. It precluded Yibo from asking _is this good?_ because everything about that posture was inviting and told him to keep going.

Yibo lowered his head and his world narrowed to his fingers going in and out of Xiao Zhan. He added more lube, just to be sure, and held in a groan at the way that stretched rim gripped his fingers.

“How are you doing?” Xiao Zhan asked, flushed, hand resting low on his stomach near his red cock, and Yibo glanced up at him in startlement.

“Shouldn’t that be my question?” he parried, turning his fingers slowly and pushing in.

Xiao Zhan gave a bitten-off moan and started to thrust up; Yibo stopped him with a hand against his hip. “Ah…ahh…I’m asking because I’m ready when you are.” His eyes fluttered and he fixed Yibo with a direct look, putting a foot on his back. His bare toes brushed over Yibo’s ass.

Yibo pushed up with the hand he had balanced on Xiao Zhan’s hip, scrambling onto his heels. It was not lost on him that he was between his beautiful long legs and they were about to…he was going to…once he pulled his fingers out, Xiao Zhan said he was ready for him. He looked down his front and touched himself, squeezing his dick, afraid it was going to misbehave. He was hard again, of course.

“Ready?” Xiao Zhan prompted, reaching out for him. He had to settle for brushing his hand over Yibo’s forearm, as the rest of him was out of reach.

The question made Yibo swallow. He wanted to, and Xiao Zhan had already assured him of his desire to do this more than once, but he needed to make it good for him. What if he got inside, thrust a couple of times, and came again?

“Yibo?” Xiao Zhan’s voice was soft.

Yibo gulped and looked up the length of that beautiful lean body and locked eyes with Xiao Zhan, who was giving him the sweetest smile. He patted his sternum.

“Get up and kiss me for a sec, okay?” Xiao Zhan said.

Yibo nodded, withdrew his fingers with care, and wiped them on some tissue he’d left near the lube. He crawled up the length of Xiao Zhan’s body, settling into his arms. Xiao Zhan worked a hand into his hair, cupped the side of his face with the other, and kissed him. It was a slow, melting, unhurried kiss, licking his mouth open and nibbling at his lips like they had nothing else to do and nowhere else to be. By the end of it, the tension gathered in Yibo’s body was centered not in his chest, but his groin, and his head was a lot clearer. Xiao Zhan pressed a kiss to his mouth again and nudged his nose against Yibo’s.

“We’re going to do what feels good, okay?” Xiao Zhan told him, and Yibo nodded far more readily. “And if everything isn’t perfection consider it incentive to keep practicing toward that.”

That caused a gleam to surface in Yibo’s eye. Framing it as a journey toward perfection—that steadied him like nothing else. It also meant they would do it again and again, and he’d try to outdo himself every time.

Xiao Zhan chuckled and kissed him, dabbled his lip across Yibo’s lower lip, and bit down gently. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Yibo said fervently. He returned the kiss and sat back, getting his knees under himself and positioning himself between Xiao Zhan’s spread legs again. 

He slicked up his cock with a generous amount, wiped his hands off on the tissue again, and took hold of one thigh, his attention drifting from the pucker that was already closing from taking his fingers to Xiao Zhan’s face. He was given a firm nod, and Yibo bit his lip, guiding the head of his cock there. He grimaced as he pushed the head in. Xiao Zhan lifted his legs up for him, raising them closer to his chest.

“It’s...ohh,” Xiao Zhan uttered. He blinked and tipped his head back. “Keep going like that, baby, slow but don’t stop.”

“It’s what,” Yibo said tensely, though he continued to push his dick forward with infinite care. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Xiao Zhan’s face, almost couldn’t even focus on how amazing Xiao Zhan’s tight body felt clenching down around his dick, because he looked like he was gritting his teeth.

“It’s big,” Xiao Zhan breathed. He reached for one of Yibo’s hands and their fingers tangled together. “Keep going.”

It seemed easier to slide in, whether it was his imagination or the order had freed him to bury his cock to the hilt. He knelt like that, throbbing, and held himself still as his brain caught up to his body. He was _in Xiao Zhan._ He broke into a wondering grin and Xiao Zhan huffed a laugh out and tugged him down on top of him, groaning as Yibo settled his weight on him. They kissed again, but it was brief. Xiao Zhan nodded and sort of… _flexed_ under him; Yibo moaned and his hips twitched forward.

“Do a few more of those, slowly,” Xiao Zhan emphasized.

Yibo could do that. He rolled his hips, staring at Xiao Zhan’s dark eyes on him, his wet red lips, his high cheekbones that Yibo wanted to cup while he kissed the breath out of him. Xiao Zhan smiled. Yibo’s heart just about stopped, and his next few thrusts rocked in and out a little faster.

“Yes…yes, just like that,” Xiao Zhan told him, shifting under him and matching him move for move.

Yibo licked his lips and nodded, quickening his thrusts. He’d barely gotten started and he wanted to do this forever. He wanted to be like this, wrapped up with this man, for as long as humanly possible. Then do it again.

So this was what the big deal was about sex. It was a good thing he’d waited til now—he was going to bother Zhan-ge non-stop to be doing this with him from now on.

“That’s good…ahh, that’s good,” Xiao Zhan praised. He ran his hands down Yibo’s sides. “You can…mmn…sit back on your heels and go faster, if you want.”

Yibo tried to fathom why he would want to get up from being plastered atop Xiao Zhan, moving his cock in slow but mind-blowing thrusts inside him.

“And that’ll let you touch my cock, too,” Xiao Zhan added, and _there_ was his motivation.

He used his core strength to peel himself up and adjust, keeping his cock inside him but sitting on his own thighs. He had to pause, mesmerized with the view. Xiao Zhan was spread out below him like an absolute feast, glowing with sweat, his cock so red and hard between them it looked like he could go off any second. He started to touch himself and Yibo jolted into motion, pushing his dick in and out and reaching for Xiao Zhan’s cock at the same time.

They both cried out as Yibo moved faster, stuttering into a faster rhythm. Oh… _oh_ , that was even better than going slow. He was going to come really damn quick if they kept going like this. He pumped Xiao Zhan’s cock in his hand just as fast and Xiao Zhan moaned and squirmed under him.

“Like this?” Yibo panted, fisting Xiao Zhan’s cock. He thrust in and out so fast it had to be too much, but Xiao Zhan only looked blissful, so he kept going.

“Yes…ah…gonna come,” Xiao Zhan told him.

Yibo redoubled his efforts, hand moving faster, dick drilling into Xiao Zhan at the same pace. He moaned in surprise as his orgasm shocked him—once again he was coming before he realized it. He slowed down, tugging on Xiao Zhan’s cock.

“Keep doing that and come kiss me,” Xiao Zhan told him, and Yibo complied, stretching up and over him, leaning more on one hip in order to keep his hand moving on Xiao Zhan’s pretty cock.

They managed to kiss a few times before Xiao Zhan stiffened and bit his lip. A hand joined his and they both worked his cock as he came all over their twined fingers. Yibo lay panting on him, pushing his face into the crook of Xiao Zhan’s neck, kissing him there. His pulse was so fast. It thrummed through Yibo everywhere their skin touched. He found he liked lying there like that, as much of himself spread against Xiao Zhan naked and sweaty as possible.

Yibo would never have thought he’d like it, being tangled up and sweaty with another person. Xiao Zhan’s hand skimmed back and forth over him from his shoulder blade to the hollow at his tailbone as their heartbeats calmed. He tried not to squirm, but became very aware he was still inside him, even if he was going soft.

“That was amazing,” Xiao Zhan said before he could ask. He kept caressing him.

“Mmn,” Yibo responded in a low rumble and got an arm around him. He disengaged as their lower bodies shifted and Xiao Zhan wrapped a leg over his hip, securing him close.

“How was it for you?” Xiao Zhan asked.

Yibo grinned against Xiao Zhan’s neck. He poked his tongue out, licking the nearest tendon. “Hmm,” he vocalized, pretending to think. “I am going to need lots…lots more practice to form an opinion.”

“Wang Yibo!” Xiao Zhan exclaimed, but he was laughing.

Yibo tightened his arm around him and kissed his neck. “It was the best.”

“It was your _only—_ ”

“Still the best,” Yibo countered. “Zhan-ge is my best and we’ll do even better next time.”

“Mn,” Xiao Zhan returned, sounding pleased. They settled into one another.

He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised to learn after all his firsts with Xiao Zhan that he was in fact a cuddler after sex.

Yibo fully could have napped and gone another round after, but Xiao Zhan had to go and remind him that Han-ge had gotten the movie theatre set up with a new drama for their exclusive viewing. 

That caused some grumbling, but Yibo had to concede the point.

They got up and showered together, and that was another delightful first of another kind, because he discovered showering with his partner was about four times as much fun as showering alone. They splashed water at one another, Xiao Zhan pinned him up against the wall and kissed him, they touched each other even though there was no prospect of getting hard any time soon, and soaping up someone else was way more interesting than washing himself. The shower also took about four times longer, but Yibo felt light when they stepped out and carefree in a way he couldn’t remember since…since his last motorcycle ride.

He grinned over at Xiao Zhan, who grinned back at him. They scuffled with each other as they made their way back to the clothing they’d left in a trail from door to bed.

As they dressed, Yibo found he couldn’t stop touching Xiao Zhan. He reached out for him to skim a finger along his collarbone, brush thumb and forefinger over his earlobe, and circle his wrist with his hand. Xiao Zhan flicked a curious look at him each time and dissolved into a grin. Sometimes he would poke him in return, but on almost each occasion he simply let him touch.

“Xiao Zhan,” Yibo said, trying the name out in his mouth. “Zhan-ge.”

“Come on, Wang Yibo, show me where this home theatre of yours is,” Xiao Zhan wheedled.

“Okay,” Yibo said. He reached his hand out.

Xiao Zhan took it and laced their fingers together without delay. They exchanged another smile.

“Xiao Zhan, my lover,” Yibo said, as they left his suite. The hand in his squeezed almost painfully tight.

“Wang Yibo, my intended.” Xiao Zhan said it without looking at him, but Yibo could see the curve of his mouth.

That squeezing sensation was in Yibo’s chest now, and he didn’t even bother to try stopping the exhilarated grin that took over his face.

They did make it to the in-house theatre, and the lights dimmed shortly after they took their seats. Yibo kept his hand in Xiao Zhan’s as the drama started. Although he did entertain a fantasy of sliding down onto his knees and sucking Xiao Zhan off for about half an hour while coming into his own hand during the slow build-up scenes, it did end up having enough action for him to pay attention and watch when the story finally upped the pace with the dragon prince leaving the mountain recesses to chase the fox spirit who had snared his treasure. 

At least, the dragon prince told all he encountered in his pursuit that the fox spirit had stolen a treasure from him. After a clever chase, a number of action scenes, an ill-struck bargain, a heart-shattering misunderstanding, more action, and the dragon prince and fox spirit fighting their way through armies of possessed minions to find their way back to one another, during the confession scene it turned out the treasure the fox spirit had stolen had been the heart of the dragon prince all along.

The ending had another beautifully framed and shot chase scene that had Yibo grinning, and he turned to flash it on Xiao Zhan even in the dark.

“Oh, what,” Xiao Zhan grumbled, but he was smiling too.

“ _This_ chase scene is a euphemism,” Yibo said, raising his brows, and Xiao Zhan laughed.

“It wasn’t the only one, baby,” Xiao Zhan replied.

“What? Which…” Yibo cast his mind back over the two hundred some minutes he’d just watched.

Xiao Zhan leaned over, kissed his jaw, and flicked his tongue along it.

Yibo was mortified. And aroused. He wanted to take Xiao Zhan back to his room at once.

“Can we—” he started, and the three tones of the audio system interrupted him, followed by the summons to lunch.

Xiao Zhan laughed again and patted his knee. “Later.”

Yibo didn’t even bother to try and leverage a pout. They were expected at lunch but given nothing had been planned for the itinerary yet again, he doubted anyone would notice if they disappeared rather than join the others in the salon for more thrilling rounds of weiqi.

***

The morning of the gala dawned bright and golden, the skies clear and blue once more. Everyone had been encouraged to sleep late that day for the prospect of staying up late into the night, and the palace staff were busy greeting early arrivals of all kinds for the immense celebrations.

Xiao Zhan was never able to sleep much past nine. Once the light streamed through his windows and he was woken by it, he was awake for good. He had been expecting a lazy morning of staying abed thinking about Yibo and was surprised to receive a message from him telling him a breakfast tray would go past his room at nine-thirty and he should follow it.

And so, on the morning of Wang Yibo’s birthday, Xiao Zhan found himself sneaking into his suite along with breakfast, to laze on a chaise eating souffle pancakes with fresh whipped cream and strawberries with syrup. Afterward they got to enjoy some mind-blowing rounds of sex and Xiao Zhan wondered after the last one, as Yibo napped on his chest, if he was losing his mind for falling so fast for Yibo, or whether he’d be crazy not to.

He stroked Yibo’s hair and admired the simple sweetness of his face in repose. Sleeping, his expression was completely slack and he looked a little younger, defenseless. Xiao Zhan didn’t try to temper the wave of tenderness that came over him. He tucked a hand over Yibo’s shoulder, holding him close, and tried to allow himself to slip into a nap too. They would be up late enough for the gala.

When Yibo woke, his sharp chin poked Xiao Zhan in the center line of his chest, making him open his eyes.

“This is the best kind of day I can imagine, but shouldn’t you be in the reception hall with your parents?” Xiao Zhan asked, stroking his fingers back and forth along Yibo’s spine.

Yibo wrinkled his nose. “Am I technically supposed to be? Yes. Would I allow it? No.”

“Ah, so this is your birthday gift?”

Yibo favored him with a naughty grin. “Aren’t you my birthday gift, Zhan-ge?”

Xiao Zhan huffed softly. For whatever reason he'd plunged himself headlong into this, but Yibo was taking the dive right alongside him, so he wasn’t afraid. And he was honest enough with his feelings that sometimes Xiao Zhan felt he was the one being drawn in.

It was exhilarating, truth be told. He’d never had someone like Yibo.

“Wang Monarch, my mother, and Meilin are holding reception all day,” Yibo replied. “I’m shit at small talk. And politics. They know it. I know it. So for today, they’re letting me off the hook. Wang Monarch is happy enough not to have to make excuses if I blunder somehow.”

“Ah,” Xiao Zhan said wisely, pursing his mouth in solemnity.

“Ah, what’s that ah,” Yibo demanded, running fingers up his ribs, thumb and forefinger poised to pinch.

“Ah, then you’ll just hang onto my arm and look pretty, for Sichuan functions?” he said, grinning when Yibo’s mouth dropped open in outrage. He gave an indignant squeak, probably trying to figure out which part to deny, and his mouth was so pretty and pink that Xiao Zhan had to pull him up close enough to kiss him.

All of his objections seemed to melt away with that.

It was a leisurely day for Yibo, but Xiao Zhan had to depart before they could start another round. 

He was due at the small parlor that had been designated for Xiao family use in the wing where he and his family were staying for the duration of the trip. That meant he had to stop off at his own suite, wash up quickly and change into fresh clothes, and slide into place beside his sister as his mother began to pour tea.

“You’re late,” Xiao Monarch said, eyeing him with dissatisfaction.

“Ah, sorry,” Xiao Zhan replied, slipping a hand into his hair and tugging at the ends. He could hardly confess the reason that had kept him. Technically by the standards of etiquette they weren’t even supposed to be having unchaperoned contact, let alone the intimacies they’d engaged in.

It wasn’t as though either of them could get pregnant, but in a way, Xiao Monarch might consider coming down with feelings to be even worse. If the Wang contingent got word that Xiao Prince had fallen for his intended, they might try to wrangle concessions out of the marriage agreement, bargaining that the Xiao family would not let the arrangement fall through.

Similarly, Xiao Zhan could not let any hint of Yibo’s feelings be known to his father, who might try to take advantage and pressure Wang Monarch for more than he’d intended to settle on. He wasn’t going to let himself be used as conduit to harm his intended.

Xuan Lu reached over to touch his hand. “It’s all right for Zhanzhan to sleep in, as we’ll be expected to stay up so late.”

“True,” Xiao Monarch said, appearing mollified. “As it is Wang Prince's birthday, after all. Xiao Zhan, I don’t suppose you could ply him with alcohol and get him in bed?”

Xiao Zhan almost choked on his tea. It was a close call; he spluttered a mouthful discreetly back into his cup and set the cup firmly back down on the table. He coughed for a moment to clear his windpipe and Xuan Lu patted his back, her eyes warning him not to say too much. Of course, he already knew how to handle his father when it came to certain kinds of pressure.

“That’s hardly appropriate,” Xiao Zhan’s mother spoke up in icy tones.

Xiao Monarch sighed. “It’s not, but it would make things so much easier,” he said. “Wang Monarch is such a tight-fisted negotiator. He’s really taking a hard line on some of the items I wanted most. If word got out the Wang Prince has fallen for you… Really, Xiao Zhan, it’s not like he’s hard on the eyes.”

Xiao Zhan assumed a blank, tranquil expression. “He’s very well looked after by his people,” he said. “If I were to do anything remotely so suspicious as try to carry the drunken Wang Prince off to his rooms myself, I’d be stopped. The least that would happen would be his retinue relieving me of providing assistance. I’m sure you’d want to avoid having me accused of impropriety?” He leaned forward, raising a brow, putting the expectation on his father to answer.

That elicited another sigh and Xiao Monarch gestured impatiently. “No, I’m sure you’re right, ah. I suppose all your palace explorations have been discreetly monitored from a distance.”

Xiao Zhan pulled in a slow breath and diverted his attention to his tea, focusing with deliberate gestures on picking the cup from the table with perfect form, bringing it to his lips, and taking another sip. The thought they had been under surveillance the whole time hadn’t occurred to him. Did the Wang family already know?

Did Yibo?

He focused on the gentle skirl of leaves at the bottom of his cup, calculating. No, Yibo was too open and artless with him. If there was someone keeping an eye on him, or any kind of CCTV, he didn’t know about it. But if someone brought the news to Wang Monarch, it could spell dire circumstances and negotiating from the back foot for Xiao Zhan’s family.

His father was so stubborn, he might even pull out of the engagement negotiations rather than concede too deeply.

Xiao Zhan had to tell Yibo. He had to see if his intended could figure out if someone had that knowledge and might use it against him.

“Make sure to be very attentive to him at the gala,” Xiao Monarch instructed. “If you can manage it, don’t even leave his side. And I’ve heard he’s quite the dancer—keep his dance card filled up.”

Xiao Zhan bowed his head, hiding his smirk behind the rim of his cup. He’d already promised Yibo he would stay with him all night. He had to be a proper intended, after all, and keep all of the desperate women away.

He almost felt bad for the parade of girls who must have tried for Yibo without realizing they were trying to climb the wrong tree. He could tell from Yibo’s dismay that he didn’t experience attraction for women, so that must have been difficult for him as well but devastating to the egos of a swathe of women.

In a way, such a proclivity put the Wang Monarch in a more difficult position, because it cut his potential options for an advantageous match for his son to men only. Xiao Monarch had had his hopeful sights fixed on the young Wang prince ever since Xiao Zhan himself had admitted he liked both men and women but preferred men. Still, he could back out and try for an arrangement with a sufficiently ranked royal woman and they wouldn’t need to rely on Lulu for heirs.

“Do you like him?” Xiao Monarch asked abruptly, and Xiao Zhan raised his head from his cup with surprise.

He blinked, then his assessing mind locked onto the question his father was really asking. He wanted to know whether there would be any objections to finalizing the match on his part.

“I don’t see any obstacles to formalizing the engagement,” Xiao Zhan replied, choosing his words with care. He couldn’t allow them to be colored with sentiment.

“Good,” Xiao Monarch said. “Try to get him to like you, will you? It won’t hurt anything if you unbend a bit and get less formal with the boy you’re going to marry.”

Xiao Zhan had to bite down on his tongue to try and keep a straight face. “I’ll do my best, exalted father.”

That answer seemed to please Xiao Monarch, who changed the subject to address what everyone was wearing and be sure he deemed his immediate family to be appropriately attired.

Xiao Zhan closed his eyes for a second in relief. His father hadn’t noticed then. Xiao Zhan hadn’t already been too obvious with his feelings. It wouldn’t do for Xiao Monarch to realize his son’s primary allegiance might have shifted.

Yibo was his, and he would protect and honor that.

The rest of the afternoon crawled along, flat and dull, as Xiao Zhan went through an extensive routine to ready himself for the magnificence of Yibo’s birthday gala. He bathed, exfoliated, and moisturized; the stylist from their retinue fussed over his hair and skin.

“Isn’t it too much?” Xiao Zhan asked when the stylist brought out a trim, silver-lined black jacket liberally encrusted with what looked like Swarovski crystals.

The stylist paused and turned a flat look on him. “Xiao Prince,” she replied and clucked her tongue. “It’s all right to stand out a little.” She had known him for awhile and kept trying to draw him out of his propensity to fade into the background.

“What will he be wearing?” Xiao Zhan asked, not sure whether his stylist would even have that information.

“Black as well. Trimmed with gold decorative detailing. The two of you will make a stunning pair,” she replied. 

“All right, I’ll be guided by you,” he said. He took his clothes behind a privacy screen to get dressed. She still had some final hair touches and he knew from experience she’d do a light application of makeup to make him look as though he had no pores.

After he was fully ready, he returned to the parlor and he and Lulu played card games until they were both ready to roll up and nap on the couch.

“When do we make our entry again?” Xiao Zhan asked. All he wanted was to enter the ballroom and secure a place with Yibo on his arm. He was actually looking forward to being that kind of center for attention, so that everyone could see that Yibo belonged with him.

“About half an hour,” Lulu replied. Xiao Zhan groaned and collapsed back onto the couch.

“Hey,” Lulu said, her voice intent.

Xiao Zhan made an inquiring noise without opening his eyes.

“Do you like him, Zhanzhan?”

Xiao Zhan pulled in a slow breath to orient himself. It would be harder to hide from Lulu. Did he really need to? He rolled his lips in. Even if there was no surveillance in the private places that Yibo had taken him, there might be one in the parlor where the foreign guests stayed.

“I think it will be an agreeable match,” Xiao Zhan replied, keeping his voice steady.

Lulu was quiet for long enough he opened his eyes and lolled his head to catch her regard. She offered him a tiny smile. “Good,” she said. Her voice was tender enough to make him feel weak. “You deserve it, after—”

Xiao Zhan raised a hand, closing his eyes briefly, and she cut herself off.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t mention it,” Xiao Zhan replied with feeling. There had been someone else. He’d never deluded himself into thinking it was forever, knowing he was promised to Yibo even then, but it had been an attempt to ease the loneliness of his station and isolation.

From the start he should have known it was a mistake. He’d been used for that station and discarded when it was made clear he could provide no further opportunity. Yet in the end, Xiao Zhan couldn’t regret it because it had given him some perspective and experience for the gorgeous young man who’d brought him to a rooftop to share their first kiss at sunset.

Yibo really was something.

“I only want to think about the future,” Xiao Zhan said. He smiled at Xuan Lu. “I think it’s very promising.”

Lulu’s composure cracked and she beamed at him.

They were left cooling their heels until the prescribed hour. Xiao Monarch and the queen mother joined them, and a member of the Wang retinue arrived to guide them to the ballroom. At last. Xiao Zhan tried not to jitter or fidget too much as they were led down the maze of halls that continued to be confusion. About all he could distinguish was that some were long, straight corridors and others were gently curving hallways, there were open foyer-type spaces at certain junctures with skylights and marble flooring and luxuriant little gardens inset into the middle, and everywhere they went were glass surfaces and windows onto the grounds. It was the kind of open layout that their own palace compound in Sichuan could never be, situated in the middle of the city as it was, but Xiao Zhan could admire it here without worrying about their safety.

The ballroom was in a wing where they had yet to venture, and it was a considerable distance from the wing of suites for visiting dignitaries. From what Xiao Zhan could tell, it was on the far side of the palace compound, around and across from the entry point of the palace. At least the walk there was a scenic one. He knew they had arrived when they reached a line of people extending out a pair of enormous, open doors and the retainer guided them past the people waiting to file into the ballroom.

The Wang royal family awaited within at the head of a reception line, and Xiao Zhan and his family were taken straight to them. Xiao Zhan assumed his polite smile for company, which would no doubt remain on his face for the next hour. They would greet every single person making their way through the doors into the ballroom.

His eyes went straight to Yibo. He was, in fact, resplendent in a snowy white dress shirt topped with a black bow tie, and the black jacket he wore was decorated with scrolling gold detail. It wasn’t as flashy as Xiao Zhan’s crystal-encrusted jacket, but he looked both dignified and beautiful as he stood, hands clasped in front of him, beside his tall, equally beautiful sister Meilin.

Recognition entered Yibo’s eyes as their gazes locked, but his full mouth stayed solemn and Xiao Zhan acknowledged that with a slight nod. The reception line was for being serious. They could act more normal with one another when the formalities were over and people had loosened up after a glass or two of champagne.

The monarchs greeted one another, the queen mothers clasped hands to elbows and bestowed air kisses upon each other, and Xiao Zhan bowed to Meilin, who gave him a wry smile. That look told him she knew who he’d rather be greeting as Xuan Lu stood beside him shaking his intended’s hand.

“Good evening,” Meilin said. “Please take care of my brother.”

Xiao Zhan’s ears heated up. It was something that would be said about a relative being married off, and they weren’t quite there yet. “I will,” he said softly.

Meilin’s smile widened. “I have a feeling you will.”

They nodded to one another and Xiao Zhan moved to stand beside Yibo as the rest of his family arranged themselves into the reception line. He put his hand to the back of Yibo’s arm and leaned in a little closer.

“Happy birthday, baobei,” he murmured, hoping it was low enough for Yibo’s ears only.

Yibo’s head turned ever so slightly, enough for Xiao Zhan to see his mouth begin to curve up before he pulled it straight. “Thank you. Remember what you promised me.”

“You won’t leave my sight or my side,” Xiao Zhan replied, not bothering to be as quiet. His father would be pleased if he carried out the plan he’d already intended on, after all. “How was your day?” He meant how had Yibo’s day been after he’d departed the younger prince’s suite and knew he would understand it as that.

Yibo craned his neck to look at him and gave a slight pout. “Boring, and now it’s been tedious until you got here.”

“Once the reception line is over, we’ll have some fun,” Xiao Zhan promised him. He almost wished he hadn’t, because Yibo’s eyes _gleamed_ at him and he gave his lip an unsubtle lick.

Xiao Zhan straightened, his posture upright as he could make it. He couldn’t manage to keep his hands to himself, though. He let one dangle within reach of Yibo’s crisp black jacket, tempted to give it a tug.

They had to behave as the reception line began. The most high-ranked entered first, followed by wave upon wave of royals. Yibo’s twenty-first birthday marked the Henan prince's first year as a full adult and a great many of the politically connected had made sure to be in attendance. The royal families of Shanxi, Hebei, and Anhui had all sent representatives, all of them attractive young men, and Xiao Zhan narrowed his eyes at them as all of them tried to hold onto Yibo’s hand before being disengaged with a curt word and an unwelcoming nod.

It seemed as though those provinces might all be seeking opportunities.

After the third handsome young royal had moved on from Xiao Zhan to Xuan Lu, Yibo’s pinky finger brushed the side of his hand. He looked up and regarded Yibo in profile in time to catch the flash of a smile, there and gone.

The reception line was every bit as dreary as Xiao Zhan had come to expect, and his face ached from the fixed smile he kept by the end of it. They filed to one side of the ballroom where a table large enough for both Wang and Xiao families had been placed up on a dais, lined with a resplendent red and gold tablecloth.

The reception line was followed by the opening of the dinner banquet in Yibo’s honor, and Xiao Zhan was grateful they went straight to the food without beginning with toasts. There would be plenty of alcohol flowing throughout the night.

On the dais, through some miracle Xiao Zhan had been placed beside Yibo, so either someone had been paying attention or expected to use the seating arrangement for the two of them to be forced into proximity. Xiao Zhan hid a smile in his tea and watched the first course, blue-glazed bowls of shredded vegetables and possibly pork strips adorned by an eye-catching yellow peony, being distributed along the table.

“This is the famous Luoyang Water Banquet; what should I expect?” Xiao Zhan leaned over to whisper his question to Yibo.

Yibo shifted in his chair to pin him with a smirk. He patted a hand over his belly. “Say goodbye to the next few hours and your stomach.”

Xiao Zhan widened his eyes. “It’s that many?”

“Twenty-four dishes, and they bring them one after the other,” Yibo replied. “The progression flows like water.”

“I see,” Xiao Zhan replied. He was grateful his mother had told them all not to have lunch. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to withstand twenty-four continuous dishes even with his appetite.

The servers were bringing around baijiu as well, and Xiao Zhan knew well enough to leave the nearest carafe untouched.

When he spooned up the first taste of the opening course, his eyes caught Yibo’s in surprise. “It’s like yan wo,” he said, surprised, naming the swallow’s nest soup he’d had on very rare occasions.

Yibo inclined his head. “It’s Luoyang Yan Cai,” he replied. “One of Henan’s specialties.”

“It’s amazing,” Xiao Zhan said. He dug in. If the rest of the dishes were going to be so incredible and so different from his previous experience with traditional dishes, he was in for a treat—and his stomach was indeed in trouble.

As Yibo had promised, the dishes kept moving from one course to the next. As they finished one, bowls were swept away and the next course was left in its place. The alcohol, too, flowed freely though Xiao Zhan ended up pouring only one cup out of politeness. He imitated neighboring tables and the example of Yibo at his elbow, sipping at his drink in between the cold courses. Most were soup, or had at least some measure of broth, but not all. None of it was pickled or spicy, though he did see Yibo pouring vinegar over at least one dish and heard Meilin chiding him from the other side of him.

“What a waste of an amazing vinegar and those good glass noodles!” she scolded him.

The eight cold dishes were followed by sixteen hot dishes. It was in that stretch that Xiao Zhan began to founder. The quantity was fine—he’d been teased before that he seemed to have an endless stomach—but the pace wasn’t what he was used to. There was no reprieve, and Yibo had already told him that was an intended feature of the banquet. He had to begin pacing himself, taking less than he wanted in order to be able to make it to the end without disgracing himself.

“You were right,” Xiao Zhan said, turning his head. Sweat had sprung up at his temples and was probably dotting his neck and collarbone. It was one hot soup or dish after another and the baijiu was gone. “I’m sorry if you expected dancing after this.”

Yibo chuckled. “They’ll let us laze around for a while before any dancing is expected. A toast or two to my health and a happy future, then a recess to walk around and take care of the necessary, then dancing. And much later, champagne and cake.”

“If I don’t die before then,” Xiao Zhan returned, morbid.

Yibo showed his teeth in a brief grin before turning his attention back to his Eight Delicacy rice.

“I’m going to die,” Xiao Zhan mumbled under his breath, because he still wanted to try all of it. He reached for a slice of stir-fried fish. There were still five final courses to go.

Yibo just looked at him and shoveled an enormous bite of rice into his mouth.

“This is it. This is Henan’s strategy,” he said, one hand going up to tug at his collar. “You just feed your guests into submission.”

Yibo grinned around his mouthful and said nothing.

All good things had to come to an end and so, too, did the spectacular parade of incredible food. There had been flavors Xiao Zhan had never experienced before in quite that way. He couldn’t even remember half of the dishes he’d eaten but it was a banquet he would remember for the rest of his life.

He hoped, as he prodded a wan zi on his plate and contemplated whether it would make him overly full, that it would be a long time before he experienced such incredible delights again. Here was a case where absence would make the stomach grow fonder.

“I can’t move,” Xiao Zhan complained, trying not to groan as he put a hand with exaggerated care over his midsection. “You’ll need a wheelbarrow to get me away from the dais.”

Yibo just snickered at him, the unsympathetic boy.

According to the programming, there was an interval to allow recovery, and Xiao Zhan took full advantage. He knew he ought to get up out of his chair, but he couldn’t bear to move. On the floor in front of the dais, many of the attendant royalty and honored guests were circulating, chatting, and exchanging admiring words reminiscing over the banquet they had all just been plied with.

Xiao Zhan leaned toward Yibo. “How long will it be until I stop feeling like I’ll burst?”

Yibo pursed his lips and Xiao Zhan’s eyes got stuck on that lower lip. When he raised them, Yibo’s gaze all but twinkled at him. “See something you like?”

“Don’t flirt with me in front of your sister,” Xiao Zhan hissed, flapping a hand at him.

Yibo rolled his eyes and sat up straighter in his chair. “About an hour, maybe two depending on your metabolism. They’ll serve tea in a moment or two.”

The hour unwound as predicted: those assembled in the packed ballroom were served tea, and it might have been his imagination, but Xiao Zhan began to experience relief after a few sips. They lounged around, chatting. Meilin engaged him with a few remarks, but for the most part left him to Yibo’s conversational mercies.

Xiao Zhan was unsurprised to find Yibo a bit short and awkward in the absence of privacy, and he sent bracing smiles his way during the stretches between either of them having something to share. He’d warned Xiao Zhan he was bad at small talk, and Xiao Zhan didn’t think that was true so much as he too was conscious of the others who might be listening in.

He could have fallen asleep in his seat once the toasts started. It was an interminable length of time to sit and he ought to have gotten up and stretched his legs. Wang Monarch kicked it off with a speech so effusive and fulsome that he was definitely buttering up Yibo’s finer qualities and several of the things he said bordered on untruths.

Xiao Zhan might have caught feelings, but he liked Yibo despite some of his pricklier traits.

The Wang queen mother spoke next, and Xiao Zhan smiled non-stop at her anecdote of a determined, stubborn little boy who had picked himself up from asphalt with scraped knees, righted his bicycle, and wheeled off unsteady but remaining upright. That summed up the dogged perseverance he’d come to recognize. Various members of the Wang retinue spoke next, including the earnest, kind-faced Wang Han who had set up the movie theatre for them the day before. All the other speeches were short but painted a vivid tapestry of Yibo from his youth to his current height and manner, and Xiao Zhan leaned forward with his chin on one hand as he recognized the lonely but passionate young man in everything he heard.

He looked from the corner of his eye as the speeches wound to a close. Yibo’s chin was tucked in, his eyes shuttered. He didn’t look embarrassed or bored, and Xiao Zhan tried to pinpoint the expression on his face. He couldn’t quite fathom it. 

When the applause from the last toast faded from the ballroom and the master of ceremonies declared recess, Yibo turned to him and tapped the arm of his chair. “You’ll want to book it to the nearest bathroom if you have to go. Otherwise the queue will take forever.”

Xiao Zhan nodded and got up from his seat. He was half expecting Yibo to follow, but he didn’t. Nevertheless, he remembered passing by a discreetly marked one on their way past the reception line and hastened to it. He had lucked out; he was first to arrive.

After blotting away any remaining traces of sweat and washing his hands, Xiao Zhan returned to the ballroom. The royal families had gotten up from the dais, and Yibo was standing beside his sister and Xiao Monarch. As he walked toward them his eyes narrowed. The representative from Anhui was headed right for Yibo, his face alight with expectation. Xiao Zhan thought he recognized him as royal blood in his own right; a collateral branch of the currently ruling family.

Xiao Zhan quickened his step. His legs were longer.

“—afforded the honor of a dance with you, Wang Prince?” the Anhui royal was saying to Yibo as Xiao Zhan reached him and tucked his hand into the crook of Yibo’s elbow, standing too close to him for most people’s sensibilities.

Yibo didn’t even tense. He turned his head and greeted Xiao Zhan with a heavy-lidded smile. “Xiao Prince,” he said, ignoring the Anhui royal.

“I’m very sorry,” Xiao Zhan said, bestowing the semblance of his most sincere smile on the Anhui royal. “I’m afraid I’ve claimed that dance.”

“Ah…” The Anhui royal faltered, gave a sort of half bow, and recovered his fumble. “The next one after, then.”

Xiao Zhan’s smile widened but he kept it within the boundaries of acceptable politeness. “I’ve claimed that one as well.”

“Then, later in the evening—”

“My apologies,” Yibo spoke up at last. “I’ve promised tonight’s dances to my intended.”

The Anhui royal’s face fell, but he managed a deep and very graceful bow. “Many happy returns, then, and my respectful wishes that you enjoy your evening.”

“I expect to,” Yibo replied with a nod.

Xiao Zhan concealed his smile behind a raised hand, pretending to rub his nose. He was seeing the side of Yibo that others reported on as aloof, forbidding even.

“Father, please excuse us,” Xiao Zhan said, offering his arm to Yibo, who wound his around it.

Xiao Monarch inclined his head in regal dismissal.

“Let’s take a turn around the courtyard garden,” Yibo suggested, directing with a gesture. “It will still be some time before they start up the music.”

Xiao Zhan nodded, and their steps took them across the ballroom to a gilt-framed glass door that opened onto an expansive oval courtyard that the ballroom curved around.

“This way,” Yibo said, tugging with pressure from his arm on Yibo’s elbow. There was a stand of luxuriant fan-shaped foliage that acted as a natural screen.

Once they stepped behind it, Yibo dragged him close, mouth hovering near his. 

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night,” Xiao Zhan said with a low groan. He crushed his mouth over Yibo’s, who parted his lips for him right away.

They strained closer, and Xiao Zhan ran his tongue over that plush lip that had been tempting him all night. He grinned into the kiss as he tasted the tea overlaying Yibo’s last course.

“Is it normal that I missed you this much?” Yibo panted when he was released from the kiss. His hands played over Xiao Zhan’s dress shirt beneath his jacket.

“I missed you, too, baobei,” Xiao Zhan admitted, pressing another kiss over his flushed lips. He had to kiss him a few more times before he was satisfied, and he pressed his forehead to Yibo’s, gripping his arms. “It scares me a little. How fast I’ve come to feel this way.”

Yibo tipped his head to one side, his eyes crinkling. “Then, I’m not alone in this.”

“Not at all,” Xiao Zhan assured him. He twitched forward to kiss him again, helpless to the impulse. He would devour him with kisses if he could. “I l—I really like you, Yibo.” His heart sped. It was too soon, his head warned him, to make such an admission. The fact that the prior occasion had been doomed from the start wasn’t lost on him, but his premature disclosures had made everything so much worse. He’d said things that had been used against him.

Yibo’s hands tightened on his waist. “Zhan-ge. I feel the same.” He tilted his head and his lips descended on Xiao Zhan’s, slow and heavy.

They shared another, deeper kiss. It wasn’t even deeper in the sense of tongues, but the way Yibo’s lips fit to his, the pace of his mouth parting as they met one another halfway, was intimate and considering. Xiao Zhan’s pulse beat faster and he clung to Yibo’s arms with desperate hands, unwilling to let up. They descended into one another’s mouths until they were forced to surface for thick, humid breaths and Xiao Zhan rested his forehead against Yibo’s again.

“I need to ask you something,” Xiao Zhan said, recalling the fright he’d experienced earlier that day in the parlor.

“Anything,” Yibo replied at once.

Xiao Zhan chuckled and rubbed his thumb along Yibo’s forearm. “Don’t be so quick!”

“I trust you,” Yibo said. He cocked his head and gave him a challenging look. “Shouldn’t I?”

“I’m your man,” Xiao Zhan assured him, experiencing a strange pang of shyness over saying the words aloud and trying to brush past it. “Others, not as much. My father told me to seduce you this afternoon.” He didn’t have the slightest guilt in admitting it to Yibo.

Yibo’s mouth pursed. He snorted. “And you didn’t give him the satisfaction of saying he was late with his request.”

“Of course not,” Xiao Zhan said. “He’d try to use it against Wang Monarch politically. I won’t have it. I won’t risk anything that would harm you—or jeopardize our being engaged.”

Yibo shuddered and slid his arms fully around Xiao Zhan, taking him into an embrace. “I had the same instinct, I just didn’t put words to all the reasoning behind it,” he murmured. “For my part, I wasn’t going to give Wang Monarch the satisfaction of knowing we’re becoming close.”

Xiao Zhan’s arms folded around Yibo. “All I want to do is kiss you all night,” he said with a shaky laugh. “We have to get a couple of things sorted, though.”

“Besides the dancing?” Yibo’s voice was a wry rumble beside his ear.

Xiao Zhan petted his back. “Mn. Your people, would they be surveilling us? Is there anyone that could be telling Wang Monarch…” He trailed off. They had kissed on the rooftop, made out in the gallery—where there _had_ to be cameras—had sex in the carriage house…Xiao Zhan was chilled to realize he hadn’t been more circumspect.

A start went through Yibo and he pulled back. “Of course they are,” he said, frowning as he seemed to realize the same thing that had run through Xiao Zhan’s mind earlier that day. “But, no one has told my father. I’m certain of it.”

“Really?” Xiao Zhan’s brows climbed.

A trace of a smile tugged at Yibo’s mouth. “Lele is very loyal to me,” he said. 

“Lele…that’s…”

“Our head of security,” Yibo said. “He’s not big on politics. But he cares about me a lot.”

“So it would be safe to say, he didn’t see anything worth reporting higher up,” Xiao Zhan said. He slumped with relief against Yibo, who held him tightly again.

“It’s fine,” Yibo said against his ear. “Zhan-ge, we’re fine. We just…need to be more careful before they conclude negotiations.”

Xiao Zhan expelled a relieved breath and nodded. He was shocked, again, by the intensity of his feelings. Already he was of the mind he couldn’t lose this. He would not lose Yibo.

From the way Yibo clung to him in turn, Xiao Zhan was assured he felt the same way.

A couple of sharp staccato footsteps reached their ears and Xiao Zhan began to pull away only for Yibo to stiffen in his arms. He turned, craning his neck. A fine-fingered hand had lifted a fan-shaped frond out of the way and Meilin peered at them both around the foliage.

“You are so predictable, didi,” Meilin said to her brother, who sneered.

“Ah…” Xiao Zhan began. He shut his mouth. There was nothing he could do to explain himself. It was exactly what it looked like.

Meilin had a bemused smile on her face. “Did you forget your first dance is compulsory? It’s _your_ birthday.”

“Go away, I’m busy,” Yibo said, tightening his arm around Xiao Zhan’s waist, but he was smiling.

She tilted her head and looked at Xiao Zhan but addressed them both. “I figured you’d want to hear you’re expected from me before someone else comes looking.”

“Thank you,” Xiao Zhan said, trying to bow but Yibo tightened his grip on him, and he stopped with a laugh.

Meilin flirted her fingers at them in a brief wave. “Have fun and be more careful!” She let the frond drop into place and left behind the click of her heels as she retreated.

Yibo tugged him back into his arms and buried his face against Xiao Zhan’s neck with a low groan. “Can we just skip the rest of the gala?”

That made Xiao Zhan laugh and tug on his ear to pull his face up and into kissing range. He had to capture him for at least one more before they went back to the ballroom.

“If it wasn’t your birthday, maybe,” he said, breathing in deep and easy as he came to terms with how fond he was of this young man, this Wang Yibo.

Yibo gave him a glint of a smile and pulled away, offering his arm, the very model of decorum. “Then, please do me the honor of joining me for the first dance.”

Xiao Zhan grinned back at him and took his arm. “The honor is all mine.”

“Besides, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can ‘unwrap’ me later.”

Xiao Zhan froze, eyes wide, before their combined laughter pealed out across the courtyard. They might still have the interminable roster of dancing stretching ahead of them into the night, but at least they’d be beside one another for the entirety.

***

The day after the gala was pretty much a loss for everyone. Yibo himself woke well after one. Everyone ate in their suites that day; it worked out for him, because he’d taken Xiao Zhan back to his suite the night before and refused to let him sneak back to his room in the wee hours of the morning. “No one will notice. They’ll all be busy nursing hangovers,” Yibo assured him, and he was right. Dinner the day after the gala was a very light affair. The day after that, all the visiting royalty and dignitaries began to depart and Yibo was pressed into service for that dreary duty.

The second day after his gala, Yibo rose in the hopes some kind of activity might have been planned for the visiting royals’ itinerary and was disappointed yet again.

“Honestly, I don’t know how anyone expected this to be entertaining,” Yibo complained as he led Xiao Zhan through the halls to a more secluded area of the palace, their hands threaded together. They couldn’t spend the entire time together in his room, after all. He had a few hiding places around the palace and was headed for a particular hidden room off the library where he used to stow himself with sweets or snacks that he’d stolen from the kitchen.

Xiao Zhan gave him a sidelong smirk. “Really? You don’t think this was somewhat strategic on their part? It seems intended to throw us together with nothing else to do but—”

“Well, at least my sister is getting along well enough with yours,” Yibo interrupted that hurriedly. He met Xiao Zhan’s meaningful look. “They couldn’t have predicted we’d hit it off so well.”

“Mn, by all accounts, everyone was expecting you to reject me and for me to freeze you out due to the hit against my pride.”

Yibo scowled. “That sounds like gossip from the glitterati.”

“Xuan Lu said it was all people could talk about,” Xiao Zhan said. His fingers pressed Yibo’s in a reassuring squeeze. “They were shocked that we stayed glued to each other’s sides all evening during the gala and even showed every evidence of enjoying one another’s company.”

That made Yibo bark with laughter. “They really don’t know me. I’m terrible at faking interest in someone. I don’t do appeasement.”

“Yes, that’s very clear to me,” Xiao Zhan said, and when Yibo cut a glance his way, his face was twinkling with good humor.

Yibo grumbled and lengthened his steps. It always irked him somewhat that no matter how fast he strode, Xiao Zhan kept up with him without a hint of effort.

He led them through the smaller, more winding corridors of a wing tucked past the ballroom and behind the gallery. It was made up of odds and ends: multiple library-type rooms packed with books, display rooms for the odd trophy or show piece that wasn’t museum worthy, parlors, servant’s quarters, and store rooms. Yibo knew the wing inside and out because it was filled with places to hide.

He smirked, trying not to look smug, when he triggered the hidden switch behind a book of ancient treatises and the bookcase began to swing outward, revealing a hidden door. It had an old-fashioned lock, but Yibo had long since hidden the key and kept it unlocked for his personal use. He wasn’t even sure anyone else in his family knew about the hidden room, though he knew both Lele and Wang Han were aware of it.

“Oh, this is amazing! I didn’t think such a grand compound would have hidden rooms. I suppose I should have,” Xiao Zhan exclaimed as Yibo led him to the red velveteen couch against one wall. A gigantic painting simulating a window view of the outdoors was hung over it. 

“We have hidden exits and panic rooms as well,” Yibo said, amused by the effusive reaction. “You didn’t think we would because we’re out in the country?”

“I suppose I didn’t consider it,” Xiao Zhan allowed. He let himself be drawn down onto the couch with Yibo, who arranged himself to pull Xiao Zhan half atop him. He was expecting they would have at least enough time for a good make-out session, if not much more.

“And the Xiao palace?”

“Our Sichuan palace was built up and out from an original central palace compound. It’s very old, very stately, and it has ten generations’ worth of additions and architects,” Xiao Zhan replied. He settled into Yibo’s arms with a contented sigh, dropping his head into the crook of Yibo’s neck. “As you can imagine, there’s a lot of hidden rooms, passages, false walls, bunkers, and the like. There’s so many that the house security has a secret map kept under lock and key and I don’t think even they have all of them listed.”

Yibo found himself looking forward to the prospect of exploring such a place. He hoped he’d be allowed. He worked his hand into the waist of Xiao Zhan’s dress slacks, not with any further intent but simply to touch him skin to skin. He stroked his fingers over the small of his back and Xiao Zhan made a contented noise. 

He had been skin-hungry, Yibo realized. Each touch, each time Xiao Zhan held him, made contact with him, only made him want more. Having to deny himself in public only made him want his lover even more when they had a modicum of privacy.

“I can’t believe they sent royals to try to put the moves on you,” Xiao Zhan said with a pout in his voice, cuddling up against his side and playing a hand over Yibo’s stomach. He untucked Yibo’s shirt and fanned out his fingers around his navel.

Yibo chuckled. “I believe my father invited them,” he said. He would be more irritated if it wasn’t so pointless.

“Oh?” Xiao Zhan lifted up to look at him full on.

Yibo gave him a firm, reassuring stroke from tailbone to mid-back and Xiao Zhan arched into it like a cat. “It’s very like Wang Monarch,” he said. Xiao Zhan’s revelations to him at the night of the gala had kick-started his brain into working again. He’d been fairly dick-drunk and he was trying to be less so. He was invested in his match now and had to pay attention to the politicking, much as he hated it.

“He probably invited all of the neighboring provinces to the gala—only a few of them showed up, but they sent marriageable young men,” Yibo said thoughtfully. “And I am sure that was at my father’s request. No matter how well—or not—you and I were getting on by the night of the gala, he must have figured seeing eligible potentials for my hand would put pressure on Xiao Monarch.”

“A negotiating tactic, again,” Xiao Zhan said with a sigh. He lowered his face back against Yibo’s neck and kissed a tendon there. “My father was irked that Wang Monarch was being a holdout for all the things he’s been hoping to gain from negotiations.”

“He’s acting like he has the upper hand, and he doesn’t,” Yibo said wryly. He shifted to kiss Xiao Zhan and managed to press his lips to his forehead. “I don’t get it. They both want this marriage. He opened negotiations as soon as I hit sixteen.”

“It’s politics and intrigue, baobei.” Xiao Zhan hitched up and settled over his hips, tracking kisses along his jaw before kissing his mouth. “They both want to wring concessions out of the other, and if he looks as though he’s got a wealth of options for you, he can try and get more out of the marriage negotiations without giving too much ground.”

Yibo wrinkled his nose. “I hate it. I wish he’d just be honest with what he wants and work from there. It feels like he’s on the brink of risking the whole arrangement.”

“My father is very stubborn and has his pride,” Xiao Zhan said. He kissed Yibo’s chin. “I am a little worried about that. If he pushes too hard, I’m becoming scared Xiao Monarch might pack us up and leave. I think that’s why he wanted me to seduce you.”

Yibo pursed his lips, thinking hard on that, and Xiao Zhan took it as an invitation for a kiss, pressing forward. That was an entirely more pleasurable diversion than focusing on his father’s heavy-handed scheming, so Yibo wrapped both hands around Xiao Zhan’s waist and opened his mouth to his intended’s exploring tongue.

They traded kisses, rocking against one another every so often with quiet, pleased noises. It was satisfaction of another kind to be wrapped up together with no sense of urgency, nowhere to be, making out with no end goal. Yibo’s chest got tight with happiness and he let his hands travel down further, squeezing Xiao Zhan’s ass, pulling their bodies taut together where there was already no space between them. They kissed, their hips rolled in unison a few times, and they both backed off from that to immerse themselves in more slow, thorough kisses. Yibo was entranced, sending his tongue in light exploration, dabbling against Xiao Zhan’s tongue, stroking deep before switching back to a soft quest along his lower lip. Their mouths connected, slotting together, closing down, breaking apart before they found another pleasing fit.

He could kiss him all afternoon, Yibo thought in a haze. He would, if he didn’t have a rising urge to take him to bed. Or at least slide down on his knees and take his cock out directly into his mouth.

“Zhan-ge,” he breathed against his lover’s mouth.

“Nng,” Xiao Zhan responded, sounding every bit as lost.

“Can I—” he began, and Xiao Zhan hitched against him, making both of them catch their breath.

“Anything; I’m yours,” Xiao Zhan replied, and that tight sensation in Yibo’s chest doubled down.

When the chime sounded, reaching even the hidden room where they were stashed away, Yibo cursed in irritation.

 _“—presence is requested in the royal reception hall,”_ the polite disembodied voice informed them. _“Your royal highness and guest, your presence is requested in the royal reception hall.”_

Yibo bit off a curse and slipped his hand out of Xiao Zhan’s shirt as his intended let his head drop to Yibo’s shoulder.

“Out of curiosity,” Xiao Zhan said in conversational tones, “what were you going to ask?”

“If I could blow you,” Yibo said, patting his waist.

“Fuck,” Xiao Zhan’s lament was heartfelt as he climbed off Yibo and retreated to the other end of the couch.

“Later,” Yibo said, flashing an unrepentant grin at him when Xiao Zhan pouted.

Yibo knew well enough to respond to the chime and intercom summoning. Making Wang Monarch use people to track him down always ended up with a loss of outdoor privileges. As he didn’t have any of those due to current circumstances, he wondered if he’d be confined to his room if he made himself difficult to find.

As they approached the royal reception hall, he took his hand from Xiao Zhan’s and straightened out the creases in his shirt. They looked one another over.

“Do I look like we’ve been making out?” Yibo asked, pointing to his mouth.

Xiao Zhan appraised him. “Yibo, your mouth looks full most of the time,” he replied.

“That’s not a ‘no,’” he noted, but stepped through to the reception hall anyhow.

Two rows of advisors and retinue, Wang and Xiao, were arranged to either side of the long table. Tension coiled in Yibo’s gut as his father looked up from a sheaf of papers spread out before him and took off his reading glasses.

“Ah, Yibo,” Wang Monarch said drily. “Thank you for favoring us with your presence.”

Yibo dipped a shoulder. “What brings me the honor of involving me in the marriage negotiations?” he asked, doing his best to keep the sarcasm from his tone.

From the way Wang Monarch’s features darkened, he hadn’t done a stellar job.

“I was relating to Xiao Monarch here the fact your reluctance in the match is a factor in our negotiations, and you might yet decide you’re opposed,” Wang Monarch said, turning his attention across the table to the Sichuan delegation. “He simply wanted to confirm it from the source.”

 _Oh._ Yibo’s heart began to hammer. He hadn’t expected this gambit in a million years. He’d done a good job of concealing his feelings from his father, though; not that the man paid them much heed to begin with. Wang Monarch was counting on Yibo to be a fixed point in opposition.

He glanced in brief panic at Xiao Zhan, who fixed steady eyes on him and gave him a tiny nod of encouragement. Whatever Yibo responded, that look told him, he would back his play. He looked solemn, though.

And, Yibo realized, he looked a little resigned. As though he expected Yibo to deny him in order to back his father’s negotiating tactic to avoid giving ground.

“No, that’s not true,” Yibo stated loud and clear, reaching between them to take Xiao Zhan’s hand. His chest felt like tight bands were strapped around it, squeezing closer with every breath, and his pulse rabbited in his ears. Xiao Zhan’s hand twitched in his. “I am willing. I’m in favor of this match.” He stated it outright to allow no hint of ambiguity.

Wang Monarch’s face filled with a slap of red color.

Across the table, Xiao Monarch sat up straight and put his chin in hand. He looked both of them over, then turned an assessing look on Wang Monarch.

Wang Monarch glared at Yibo, still suffused with brick red. “You were making quite the fuss about having your say in the matter respected—” he began in a testy tone.

“Before we met,” Yibo cut in. “My say in the matter now is that I want to be married to Xiao Prince.” He squeezed Xiao Zhan’s hand, relieved when his lover’s fingers gripped hard on his in turn.

Wang Monarch sighed and covered almost his whole face with a hand but squared himself up. “Yibo,” he began. He stopped.

“All due respect, illustrious father, you might have considered a word in private before calling on my public accounting.” Yibo wasn’t above needling him a bit. He also knew whatever concessions he’d been reluctant to make for Xiao Monarch he could well afford, and what Wang Monarch didn’t know was holding out too hard might get the Sichuan delegation to walk away from the table.

There was no way Yibo was going to let that happen.

Wang Monarch took his hand away and leveled a long, hard look on him. “Yes, I see that,” he said at last.

Yibo refrained from pointing out that Wang Monarch had ordered him to try and get along with his intended. He tried not to grin, but some hint of it must have slipped because Wang Monarch’s expression soured.

Xiao Monarch pounced. “So it’s not a matter of Prince Yibo’s potential opposition that could hinder any agreements.”

Wang Monarch responded with a very aggrieved sigh. “No, no, I suppose not.” He waved his hand in Yibo’s direction. “That will be all, thank you.”

Yibo knew when to make good on his retreat and did so, holding fast to Xiao Zhan’s hand. He kept moving even once they were out of the reception hall, taking him down the corridor, opening a well concealed side door, and herding him into a coat closet before dragging the door shut behind him and pulling him into his arms, shuddering. He was tense all through his body and those tight bands were still squeezing down on his chest.

“Yibo, it’s okay,” Xiao Zhan soothed him, rubbing his back. “It’s all right, you’re all right. It’s just me.”

That got Yibo to drop his head against Xiao Zhan’s shoulder and take in a desperate breath.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Xiao Zhan said, sounding awed. He stroked his fingers at Yibo’s nape, tickling below the short hairs above his collar. His other arm tightened over his waist. “You threw the race.”

“For you,” Yibo said, straightening in Xiao Zhan’s arms to pin him with the sincerity of his intention. “I didn’t…I was afraid that…you said your father might walk away from the negotiations, if Wang Monarch took too hard of a line.”

Xiao Zhan nodded, his expression so soft that Yibo wanted to bestow kisses all over his face, starting with his cheeks.

He shuddered again and allowed himself to press forward and claim one kiss. “I couldn’t let him,” Yibo said. “I want to marry you, Xiao Zhan.”

Xiao Zhan’s face transformed into a brilliant smile. He brought a hand up to Yibo’s face, smoothing fingers along his jawline with a reverent touch.

“And you?” Yibo prompted anxiously, unable to wait for an answer. Only Xiao Zhan’s response would ease off the horrible tightness that remained in his chest, he was sure.

That only made Xiao Zhan’s smile brighten somehow, his eyes upturned into crescents. “Yibo. Of course I do,” he said. He cupped the side of his neck and moved in for a kiss.

Yibo met him more than halfway. The weight in his chest gave way to something that bloomed and expanded. He was happy, he realized, and clung to Xiao Zhan’s waist with both hands.

They kissed back and forth until they were breathless with it, drew back and shared pleased, wondering smiles, and Xiao Zhan nudged his nose with his own. “I’m glad it’s you,” he said.

“Mn,” Yibo said. “Now that we’ve met, it can’t be anyone but you.” He was a little insulted his father had even encouraged the neighboring provinces to send attractive young men. He wasn’t so easily swayed. His affections, once bestowed, were rooted firm as oak.

Xiao Zhan looked almost shy at that and pulled him close again, pushing his face into his neck. “Take me to bed or I’m going to go down on my knees right here,” he said. “You can’t say something like that without consequences.”

“We could do both,” Yibo offered, provoking a squeak from Xiao Zhan. He bit Yibo’s neck.

“Take me to a bed, you madman!” he exclaimed. “Besides, we’ll have more room to work with.”

Yibo grinned and took him by the hand. He checked outside the closet to be sure they wouldn’t be seen emerging from it and they hustled back to his suite together.

He had already tipped his hand; he figured he was allowed.

***

It was only three days after the birthday gala, but Xiao Zhan woke with a smile on his face and tentative happiness in his heart. He curled up on his side with his spare pillow, hugging it tight to his chest as he let a high-pitched noise slip free. It wasn’t enough to fully express the joy bubbling up in him, but it was a good start.

They’d said it out loud. They wanted to marry.

Beyond that—Yibo had taken the leap to make it possible. He’d declared his feelings, clearing the Wang Monarch from using his supposed reluctance as a bargaining chip. He had risked putting his family in a disadvantageous position in order to secure a place at Xiao Zhan’s side.

No one had ever done anything like that for Xiao Zhan before. No one had ever put him first like that. He was still struggling to come to terms over his emotions about it and how to properly show Yibo his appreciation.

Well, besides the obvious.

After lazing about in bed for long moments reminiscing on their heated afternoon of the day before, Xiao Zhan pushed up from his bed and rushed through his morning ablutions only to be surprised by a knock at the door. He hurried over, tying the cravat-style strips of ribbon hung from his shirt in a loose, low-hanging bow as he went to answer the door.

“Your honorable father summons you to the parlor before breakfast,” one of his mother’s maids told him, dropping into a curtsey before hustling off. No doubt she was on her way to tell Xuan Lu the same.

“Ah. Thank you,” Xiao Zhan said, giving her the nod.

He had to lean against the door frame for a second as fear clenched his stomach tight. _Fuck. He found out,_ was his first instinct, followed by a second, panicked thrill, the same thought but overlaid with a sickening roil. _Fuck, he found out!_

It reduced him to a barely past his teens youth stuck on the last time his father had found out he’d caught feelings. Xiao Zhan didn’t know what sum had been settled on, only that the problem had been paid to go away and he’d never been contacted again.

His hand formed a fist and he closed his eyes for a second, pained. He had no idea what to do.

He pushed off from the door frame and headed for the parlor. Yibo would be telling him there was nothing to do but move forward. Besides, he’d been the brave one, admitting he wanted to marry him yesterday. It could hardly be such a scandal if his father—or even Wang Monarch—had discovered the feeling was mutual.

The unsettled quaking of his stomach followed him all the way to the parlor. It twisted up even further into a storm of nerves as Xiao Zhan realized it was only Xiao Monarch awaiting him there, sitting on the loveseat he had occupied with the queen mother in the mornings. He was sipping his tea and reading from a folded newspaper as he did every day. He looked up as Xiao Zhan bowed.

“Ah, have a seat, Zhan-er,” Xiao Monarch said.

Xiao Zhan blinked, held his breath, and complied. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had used such familiar address with him. “Fuqin?” he said tentatively.

Xiao Monarch turned a benevolent expression on him. “Yesterday truly was a turning point in the negotiations,” he said. “Wang Monarch was being so stubborn, and for no reason!”

“Ah, I’m glad,” Xiao Zhan managed. His stomach still wouldn’t permit him to consider reaching for tea. He definitely wasn’t going to make an observation about how the stubbornness must be inherited.

“Wang Prince really did us a favor,” Xiao Monarch continued, regarding him closely. “You’ve made yourself quite agreeable to him, then?”

Xiao Zhan put on his blank, polite smile. He had to be very careful. “I’ve been attentive, as you asked.”

Xiao Monarch’s brow furrowed. He set his tea down and folded his hands over one knee. “Zhan-er…while I’m glad for the easing of negotiations, which has allowed both of us to enter a far more reasonable, friendly phase, there is something I need to know.”

Xiao Zhan pressed a hand to one temple, unsurprised to find sweat springing along his hairline. He folded his hands together tightly, reminding himself not to fidget in front of his father. It was his worst tell. “Yes, Fuqin?”

“Do you care for him?” Xiao Monarch asked, his dark eyes intent.

“Um…” Xiao Zhan hedged. He knew that his father wanted him to be honest. He also knew that being honest was dangerous. It could be used against him.

Against Yibo.

“Don’t give me one of your polished answers, Zhan-er,” Xiao Monarch said. His posture softened and his face shifted into unexpectedly open lines, a melancholy smile playing over his mouth. “Given what happened that handful of years ago, and seeing how you’ve closed yourself off since, I need to know whether you can care for this boy.”

Xiao Zhan’s brows rose. He couldn’t suppress showing his startlement.

“If you’re to marry him, there should at least be the seeds for love,” Xiao Monarch continued, shifting on the loveseat and looking faraway. “That’s the entire reason for this visit, beyond the negotiations. And I won’t continue them if you dislike him.”

Xiao Zhan wanted to say, _then you’ve given me conflicting signals,_ seeing that both his parents had made it clear to him before the visit that he was expected to make things work. In another sense, he supposed he was touched. It was, if not absolution for all that had gone before, a path to move beyond the wound of his past.

Xiao Monarch regarded him expectantly and Xiao Zhan bowed his head.

“I…care for him,” he said, low and hoarse. It was a struggle to admit that much to his father. He grimaced as he recalled that last time and how his nascent feelings had been cruelly dashed in the next instant.

Xiao Monarch had a rueful look that told Xiao Zhan he was thinking of that moment too.

“Then, I believe your heart has chosen well,” Xiao Monarch said, giving him a brief smile. “He’s a good boy, from what I can see. Not quite what I was expecting.”

“He is a brat,” Xiao Zhan said fondly. “He’s just as stubborn as his father, he hates politics, despises small talk, and chafes at being confined indoors with no activity.”

“And?” Xiao Monarch prompted with a half smile.

“And I like him a great deal,” Xiao Zhan admitted. “He’s thoughtful, unexpectedly romantic, flings himself into endeavors with his whole heart, warm, funny—”

Xiao Monarch lifted his hand to cut him off and they shared a small laugh.

“Then you have a solid foundation,” Xiao Monarch said.

Xiao Zhan nodded and folded his hands together. “Mn.”

“It’s enough,” Xiao Monarch said. He reached for his tea and gave him a kindly look. “The rest will develop in time.”

Xiao Zhan looked away with a smile and reached for his tea.

Altogether he could have done without the surprise, but it was a nice upending of his expectation. He’d spent so long considering his father one of the political opponents that he had to contend with, he’d forgotten that Xiao Monarch might, in fact, have his best interests in mind.

Sometimes.

He would still be on his guard.

After tea with his father, he hastened on to the solar for breakfast and Yibo had beaten him that morning. He slipped into his place beside him and Yibo quirked his brows up, reaching openly for his hand.

“Oh, it’s like that now?” Xiao Zhan said with a chuckle but held his hand tight.

“Mn, no point in hiding it. They both know,” Yibo replied. “Unless, you don’t want…?” He twitched as though to withdraw his fingers.

Xiao Zhan held on. “I’m not self-conscious,” he replied. He smiled. “I’m glad.” He glanced down the table to where Wang Monarch had paused in his conversation with his wife to cast a resigned look at the two of them.

Yibo’s eyes slid sidelong but he didn’t turn around. “He’s fine,” he commented. “He was trying to drive too hard a bargain, and I think he knows it now.”

“Well, good,” Xiao Zhan said, somewhat taken aback. He cast his thoughts back and tried to remember which side had opened up marriage talks first, back in the day. He knew Xiao Monarch had been talking about it for years and had set his sights on Wang Yibo as a prospective as soon as Xiao Zhan’s preferences were known. For Wang Monarch’s part, Xiao Zhan was the highest-ranking option without casting farther afield. A province that was further than Sichuan would bring less advantages to the match.

“Let’s have breakfast,” Yibo said. He put his head to the side. He wasn’t quite pouting, but it was close. “Maybe they’ll let us outside today. I’ve forgotten what fresh air smells like.”

Xiao Zhan grinned and reached for the nearest bowl of millet congee.

They continued to hold hands, and Xiao Zhan was surprised to learn Yibo was ambidextrous with chopsticks, or at least good enough to make a fair attempt at it. He wouldn’t relinquish his hand to eat. They split more chive and egg dumplings and Yibo tried to feed him a portion from his fingers while Xiao Zhan laughed and whacked him with an elbow. He bit his lip when he noticed the eyes of the entire table were on them and Yibo looked around, grinning.

“What?” Yibo challenged the onlookers. “Aren’t we supposed to get along?”

Wang Monarch’s mouth pinched into a pained smile and Xiao Monarch looked smug.

A thin, weedy man with beard along his jawline, seated to Wang Monarch’s left, looked worried. He frowned at Xiao Zhan and looked away when their eyes met.

Once they were all finished with their meal and half of the advisors had stood in preparation to move to the reception hall for continued negotiations, Yibo stood too.

“Can we go out today?” he asked. “You can’t keep us cooped up in here forever. I don’t care if it takes all day to do one thing, I want to show Xiao Zhan some of the capital and breathe fresh air.”

“I don’t want to relax security,” Wang Monarch said.

Beside him, the weedy man with the jawline beard spoke up. “Surely it can be eased somewhat today in order to accommodate some light entertainment.”

Wang Monarch’s brows rose. He waved a hand. “Work it out with Lele then, Yibo, but heed whatever restrictions he has.”

Yibo bowed, turned a grin on Xiao Zhan that was wide enough it all but split his face in half and grabbed him by the wrist to tow him out of the solar. “Let’s get out of here before he changes his mind,” he said _sotto voce._

Xiao Zhan nodded. Excitement was bubbling up in him, rising to meet Yibo’s sheer joy. They sped through the corridors faster than Yibo had ever led him before. He was probably truly worried his father would change his mind and keep them confined to quarters.

Having sex as much as they pleased was all well and good, but Yibo had been talking about showing him his favorite sights for days. Xiao Zhan wanted that as much for Yibo as for himself by that point.

Lele arranged for three nondescript, unmarked cars and a contingent of security to accompany them, several of them tall and rangy like Yibo—and Xiao Zhan. They had to change out of their designer casual wear into more street ready clothing, but Xiao Zhan had brought a few of those types of outfits just in case. He’d wanted to come to Henan prepared for anything.

They donned face masks, heavy mirror shades, and caps pulled low over their brows before climbing into the first SUV with Lele. Yibo’s fingers drummed across Xiao Zhan’s thigh in excitement as they settled into the bench seat side by side. Xiao Zhan snickered at him. He leaned on his shoulder and let him drum away, looking between the two forward seats at the road ahead.

Between the two of them, Yibo and Lele had worked out a plan to go to one of his favorite riverfront markets. They would do some light browsing then go to Yibo’s restaurant of choice nearby for lunch.

Yibo was so happy, his body crackling with energy, foot tapping and fingers patting along his thigh, Xiao Zhan was surprised he didn’t crack his window to stick his head out as they drove along the long, dusty strip of road on their way to the city.

Xiao Zhan looked out of all the windows in turn, curious at his first glimpse of Zhengzhou, Henan’s capital. Once they were off the long drive that led up to the palace compound, they were immersed in busy traffic at once.

Once they had reached the capital and threaded through its packed streets to find a parking spot at the market, Lele turned around to pin both of them with a serious look before one of the men could crack the door open for them.

“You’ve got your panic button?” he said to Yibo, who nodded and patted his left hip. Lele looked at Xiao Zhan and the tall, lean man in the front passenger’s seat handed a small device resembling a key fob to Xiao Zhan.

Xiao Zhan bobbed his head and took it, stowing it in his right hip pocket.

“You just pull off the cap and jam the button, and we’ll come running,” Lele told him.

Xiao Zhan tried to smile acknowledgment, but it was more of a grimace. His hand was probably getting sweaty in Yibo’s. How could he take such risks? He looked over at Yibo, who looked serious but not worried at all. Was it the adrenaline-seeking part of him? Or was Henan really that much safer?

“We’ll browse around the market until lunch time,” Yibo said. He gave Xiao Zhan’s hand a reassuring squeeze but his attention was on Lele.

“All right, let us know what place you have in mind and we’ll clear it,” Lele said.

Yibo dipped his head, tongue touching his lower lip. “Do I have to choose in advance?” he asked, plaintive. He didn’t quite pout. Xiao Zhan wanted to pinch his cheek and drag his thumb along that lower lip.

“You know we have to clear it, didi,” Lele said, his voice kind.

Yibo bobbed his head. “All right, I’ll shoot you the name of the place after we’ve walked around for a bit. There’s a few I have in mind.”

“Nothing open air,” Lele cautioned, and Yibo grimaced and nodded.

“That leaves street food out,” he mumbled as they disembarked from the vehicle.

Xiao Zhan widened his eyes at him. “You’ve eaten street food?” He wasn’t scandalized exactly. More shocked. He couldn’t even fathom being allowed to go around to street stalls in Chengdu. 

Yibo cocked a brow at him in return. “You haven’t?”

“Not yet,” Xiao Zhan replied, holding fast to his hand as Yibo pulled him into a throng of people. He tried not to flinch. He thought instead of the trips to Singapore and Macau that had been promised but never quite panned out. In Singapore, he’d been told, everyone rubbed shoulders from the lowest street sweeper to the richest billionaire, and no one would look twice at a prince of a provincial royal taking lunch beside the street food stalls.

It remained a fond dream. He hoped he’d be able to share it with Yibo.

“Some time, maybe,” Yibo said. He was already walking forward, and all Xiao Zhan could do was follow.

Yibo knew where he was going, that much was clear.

Xiao Zhan’s throat bobbed as they dove into a crowd of people, all of them shorter than him and Yibo. They were hemmed in on all sides. It was like a film where the walls surged close, only it was people, and somehow they managed to pass through without anyone bumping into them. Even in the ballroom, he’d never had so many people pressed in close to him at once; it wasn’t considered decorous. On the street, he had five near misses in as many of Yibo’s long strides. Each time the person twisted away in a deft move without even looking at him.

Yibo stopped near a concrete support plastered with colorful posters and spray-painted graffiti, herded him to stand beside it and put an arm up beside him. He plucked his mirror shades from his face. “You okay?” He leaned in.

Xiao Zhan nodded, blinking against the light. He’d had laser surgery to correct myopia when he was younger, but sudden shifts of light or darkness had a tendency to overwhelm him. “It’s a lot,” he admitted.

Yibo patted his arm. “I should have realized. I really wanted to show you some of the street dancing, though.”

“Oh, okay.” Xiao Zhan craned his neck. He could hear music coming from two different places: something folksy and familiar to his left, and something louder with more bass and a driving, regular beat.

“It’s closer to the river,” Yibo said. “You going to be okay?”

The mask hid it when Xiao Zhan bit his lip, but his nod was visible enough.

They threaded their way through a thinning crowd that was made up of younger, more casually dressed people the closer they got to the water. Most people were wearing masks, and not even nondescript black ones like Yibo and Xiao Zhan wore; there was plenty of color and design. The vibrant scene of people hawking wares at stalls, many stopping to chat here and there, and groups clustered closer to the water made Xiao Zhan’s fingers itch for a pen in a way he hadn’t craved in years.

Yibo tugged him along again, their hands connected. Here and there, Xiao Zhan could spot one of their tall doubles lingering beside a stall or looping in a circuitous route while keeping them in sight at all times. It wasn’t terribly nondescript but the utter incurious demeanor of everyone they passed had gentled Xiao Zhan from his sense of being exposed. He could see why Yibo had railed against the restrictions because no one in the everyday bustle of the Henan market was paying them a lick of attention.

They kept moving, passing around knots of people standing and chatting, until they reached a loose circle of people closest to the driving beat of the music. Yibo walked right through with his typical self-assurance until they were closer to the inner circle. Even though they were both tall and had a clear view of the two dancing figures at the center, it didn’t surprise him Yibo wanted to be close to the action.

The music came from an electronic source rather than a live one. A stocky man with cropped-short bristling black hair and a white mask with vertical black stripes was holding up a tablet but it seemed to only be a playlist with a timer on it in large white numbers. Xiao Zhan scanned behind him and spotted a big speaker blasting music.

The two dancers were synchronized, seamless. One was a young woman with her hair done up in tight braids, a black fitted halter top and loose jeans showing off enough of her body to put her moves on display. Across from her was a man flourishing one arm, then another, in sharp crisp movements as his feet moved without cease. They were both wearing masks but their eyes were bright, upturned in smile lines, as they danced off against one another.

“That’s time!” someone called, and the two of them stepped forward to clasp hands and chest bump.

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan whispered close to Yibo’s ear during a break in the movement. His intended leaned in close to his mouth. “Do you street dance?”

When Yibo pulled back, even though Xiao Zhan couldn’t see his eyes or his mouth, he could still tell that he was grinning. “As much as they let me, Zhan-ge.”

Something of his worry must have shown in his eyes because Yibo let go of his hand and put an arm around his waist, fingers seeking his hip. Xiao Zhan somehow managed not to make an undignified squeak.

“Don’t worry, today I’ll stay by your side,” Yibo assured him. His voice turned teasing. “Besides, I can’t leave my Zhan-ge standing here alone where just anyone might try and put the moves on him.”

“Yibo!” Xiao Zhan exclaimed, hushed, and leaned into him.

They watched the dancing for a good while and Yibo twitched and swayed, tapping a foot to the beat, sometimes even moving in rhythm with a song that had a strong, compelling rhythm. At one point he stood behind Xiao Zhan, hands on his hips, and shifted from one foot to the other to the point it got Xiao Zhan moving too, and he had never considered himself a natural dancer.

“All right,” Yibo said, taking a hand again when the dancers seemed to reach some sort of pre-arranged lull, switching the music to something more background style. The circle broke up, forming different clusters. Yibo led him away even closer toward the river.

There were some older people hawking wares from colorful carpets on the concrete inclines that led right down to the water. Yibo didn’t take them that far, bringing Xiao Zhan to a metal railing that lined the artificial embankment.

“Still okay?” Yibo checked in.

“Yeah,” Xiao Zhan said. They leaned against the railing, bumping shoulders. Together they looked out over the water.

“I did kind of want to dance for you,” Yibo said. “But even more than that, I didn’t want to let you go.”

“I’m glad,” Xiao Zhan said frankly. “I see why you brought me here—the sense of freedom, and anonymity, all at once is incredible.” _And scary,_ he didn’t add, but he was sure Yibo could tell that much without him saying a word.

“I think Zhan-ge hasn’t gotten to experience that much,” Yibo said, nudging him.

“You’re right,” Xiao Zhan replied, nudging him back, reaching over and taking Yibo’s hand again. “I’m getting a little worried Chengdu will be too confining for you.”

Yibo pulled in a sigh and let go of it slowly. “I’ve been a boy for long enough,” he said after a long silence. “It’s time for me to grow up and do what’s needed from me. And part of that is accepting the fact that I can’t do whatever I want all the time.”

“There will be trade-offs,” Xiao Zhan offered. “Once I’m settled and married, Xiao Monarch has hinted that some missions abroad might be in order.”

“Traveling?” Yibo returned with audible excitement.

“Yes. Goodwill missions, charitable events, cultural exchanges…the sorts of things he’s always too booked to attend unless it’s of paramount importance.”

“Sounds great,” Yibo said. His voice turned sly. “So I’ll hang off your arm and look pretty, is that the plan?”

Xiao Zhan tipped his head back and laughed. He flipped his leg up to tap Yibo’s thigh with his foot. “I know you can be charming when you put your mind to it. Together we’ll be a devastating pair.”

After they had taken in their fill of the river, they turned to thread their way through the packed masses of people to return closer to the street. Yibo took him in one direction, made a face and reconsidered, then took him another way with a nod.

“I’ll tell Lele—we have to go to Zhengbian Lu; they have the best hui mian. You can’t leave Henan without trying authentic locally-made hui mian,” Yibo said.

“Oh, the palace chef isn’t good enough?” Xiao Zhan gave a light laugh. He tucked their arms together as Yibo found another concrete support to shelter them as he put in a call to Lele.

They wandered the stalls afterward until one of the tall security doubles sought them out and gave them the nod, gesturing them both to follow.

“I am hungry,” Xiao Zhan said in sudden realization, putting his hand over his stomach.

“Good timing, then.”

The restaurant that royal security led them to was a couple of blocks over, a neat and tidy place with a sign out front that simply read Zhengbian Lu. Two of the security staff stood outside, hands clasped, and gave them the nod as their guide preceded them through the door.

Xiao Zhan inhaled the fragrant smells of broth, chili oil, and cooking meat and made an appreciative noise. One of his favorite parts of visiting any place outside of Sichuan was trying new food.

Yibo pulled off his mask and bowed to the man behind the counter. “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, Lao Xiaoji.”

“It’s no trouble at all, your highness,” the man replied, waving off his apology. “Please, you’ll embarrass me. I’m just happy you keep stopping by when you’re able. And who’s this?”

Xiao Zhan glanced over, received a reassuring nod, and pulled his own mask down below his chin. “Hello, I’m Xiao Zhan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He bowed.

Again the restaurant owner waved off the formality. “The pleasure is all mine. Thank you for patronizing my humble shop. I hope the two of you brought your appetites!”

“Definitely,” Yibo responded.

The restaurant was empty, cleared as Lele had promised, so they had their pick of seats. With the exception of the table by the window—Lele and his security staff sat there. Purposely blocking off the table that was within view of the street, Xiao Zhan thought, and it was smart. Yibo led him over to the table closest to the counter anyhow. “Here we can have the best view,” he said.

The savory smells were making him even hungrier. A young woman stopped by and dropped off a dish of wontons to get them started.

Yibo reached for the piece nearest to Xiao Zhan, who parried his chopsticks with a shocked noise.

“That one’s mine!” he told him. He wasn’t going to let his intended snatch food right from in front of him.

“It’s a communal plate. There’s one right beside it,” Yibo responded, angling between his chopsticks and reaching for it again only to be stopped by Xiao Zhan once more.

“Then you take that one! This is closest to me.”

Yibo pouted at him, actually pouted, the merciless devil. “But the one in front of Zhan-ge looks plumper.”

Xiao Zhan flattened his mouth in an unamused look and Yibo made another play for the wonton. This time he relented and let him have it. Yibo gave him a little grin in triumph and popped it into his mouth at once.

“You’d better make it up to me,” he warned.

“Zhan-ge is the best,” he said around his mouthful.

“Don’t talk while you’re eating,” Xiao Zhan returned.

They dissolved into grins and Xiao Zhan swatted his arm.

“Incorrigible,” he muttered as the young woman stopped by to deliver more dishes to their table. Yibo hadn’t placed an order, so Xiao Zhan guessed this was another Henan meal where they would be fed into submission.

He wasn’t wrong. There was a progression of dishes, not so many as the overwhelming bounty of the Water Banquet but enough that when the hui mian came by, Xiao Zhan was rethinking a few of his life choices. Specifically, the ones related to his stomach.

It turned out to be an incredible braised noodle dish with a mutton broth topped with fresh mushrooms, baby bamboo, and slivers of lamb. It came with a side dish of coriander and peeled garlic that Yibo reached for with no hesitation, taking half and eyeing him. Xiao Zhan snickered.

“If you want more, we can ask for more,” he said, and Yibo nodded. 

Xiao Zhan tried it and sat there for a moment enjoying the umami flavors of the broth and toppings. He dug in greedily for the noodles, which were so silky and tender they had to have been handmade that day.

“There’s chili oil too,” Yibo said, pointing with his chopsticks.

Xiao Zhan nodded and pulled it close. He’d wanted to try it without the additional heat first. It was a delicious dish and he could see why Yibo had insisted they not leave without trying it. It was also the kind of dish that would be better suited to cold weather, so warm it would heat him up nicely on a crisp day after walking through the street stalls with Yibo. He looked over at his intended, who was taking a large but neat bite of braised noodles and nipping at the garlic in his left hand to finish.

He could imagine coming back here, wandering through an inattentive crowd hand in hand. He pictured it during the winter, the steam of their breath pluming the air, Yibo drawing him back to that dance circle to show him some of his moves. He smiled and popped another bite of lamb and noodles into his mouth.

“What do you think?” Yibo asked when he was halfway through his bowl and most of the rich brown broth was depleted.

“It’s delicious,” Xiao Zhan replied. He decided to entrust that fleeting thought to Yibo. “I’d love to come back when it’s colder.”

Yibo nodded. “Yeah, it’s more of a cold-weather dish, but Lao-Xiaoji makes the best noodles, don’t you think?”

The man himself was hovering by the counter polishing it with a cloth, pretending not to listen.

“Some of the best I’ve ever tasted,” Xiao Zhan praised. He grinned at Yibo when they both saw the corners of the chef-owner’s mouth lift up.

They finished off their lunch and were offered dessert which both of them put off, patting their bellies with satisfied groans. For a bit longer, they lazed around the table digesting, until Yibo got to his feet and tapped Xiao Zhan’s shoulder.

“Bathroom,” he said, jerking his head toward a back hallway around the corner from Xiaoji’s counter.

Xiao Zhan nodded, adjusting in his seat, and his brows went up when Yibo lingered, eyes burning on his. “Oh! I’ll go, too, then,” he said hastily, catching a clue.

Yibo caught at his wrist as he rose from his seat and towed him down the hallway.

It wasn’t a single cubicle like he had been expecting; it was a row of toilet stalls and Xiao Zhan made a little face.

“I really have to go first,” Yibo said it like an apology and Xiao Zhan waved it off, heading for the furthest stall himself.

“It’s fine. Me too.”

He was quick about his business but stood in the stall a moment after he was finished, languorous with the fullness of the meal, replete with his new impressions of the morning. He hoped Yibo wasn’t planning much more than some kissing and light petting. It was a public bathroom after all, and he didn’t trust it to be sanitary enough to do too much more. He tucked himself away and zipped up, turning.

“What the—who are you?” Yibo demanded, and the sound of cloth and flesh scuffling made Xiao Zhan yank his stall door open. “You’re not on my team!”

Outside near the sinks was a tall and rangy man like the others, masked and hatted with dark glasses. They weren’t mirrored shades, though. He had a grip on Yibo’s arm and he was pulling something out of his pocket that looked like a sopping wet handkerchief.

 _Chloroform_ , Xiao Zhan thought, and the next second was all pure thoroughly-drilled instinct as he shot across the room and aimed a kick for the assailant’s knee. The man twisted away out of the path of the blow and Yibo wrenched his arm away.

“Lele!” Yibo shouted, hand flashing into his pocket.

The man jabbed out for his arm, striking for his elbow rather than the panic button, but Xiao Zhan was in between them, driving his arm away with a sharp palm blow. The assailant was about his height, almost his build, somewhat thicker in the shoulders and waist. He backed up and Xiao Zhan pounced, reaching out not for the body but for the face. His fingers caught the top edge of the man’s mask and he closed his hand into a fist.

With a wrench, the man tore away, and Xiao Zhan dug his fingers in, holding on harder. He was too stunned at the swiftness of it all and thanking his lucky stars the man hadn’t brought a weapon to incapacitate Yibo.

Yibo struck forward faster than any of them, snatching at the handkerchief dangling from the man’s grip. He kept hold of it even as the assailant slammed his way out of the bathroom and ran.

Seconds later, Lele and one of his men were at the door. “Yibo!”

“I’m all right,” Yibo said, waving them off and pointing toward the back. “He left through the back entrance; you might still be able to catch him.”

Lele gave a curt nod and he and his security sprinted off.

Xiao Zhan looked down at the mask in his hand and turned it over, careful to handle only the outside in case the inside of it could be used as evidence. He sucked in a shocked breath as he spotted something on the inside strap.

“What is it?” Yibo asked, leaning against his shoulder.

“This is…the Sichuan seal,” he said, holding up the mask and showing the small crest on the inside strap. “But this doesn’t make any sense. We don’t have any reason to try and kidnap you. My father would do just about anything to make this alliance work.”

Yibo’s mouth quirked. “I know. He told you to seduce me, after all.”

Xiao Zhan laughed. He looked closer at Yibo and slid his free arm around him. When he splayed his hand over the back of Yibo’s waist, the tremble in the muscles beneath his shirt made itself known. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Zhan-ge.” Yibo stepped in and nuzzled his ear. “It’s the adrenaline.”

“Oh,” Xiao Zhan said. He leaned closer.

Yibo kissed him, looked at the mask in his hand, and set his jaw. “I think I know who is actually behind this.”

***

The afternoons, Yibo knew, had been filled with leisure for the visiting family not involved in the negotiations but each delegation withdrew after lunch: to the royal study for Wang Monarch, and the guest parlor for Xiao Monarch. The ride from Zhenghzou had been filled with silent tension but Yibo had kept Xiao Zhan tucked in close beside him to make sure he knew Yibo held him accountable for none of it.

He’d given the soaked handkerchief to Lele as evidence but he’d confiscated the mask with its seal and stowed it in his thigh pocket. That one was going to be a straight return to sender. There was no need to get Lele or his people involved and have them jump to the wrong conclusions.

Conclusions that had been carefully but clumsily arranged.

It had become a political matter, and Yibo despised involving himself in politics. He had to step in here, however, or risk losing the man he desired for his fiancé.

He parted from Xiao Zhan in the royal sitting room with a kiss and an injunction to wait for him. “I’ll only be a moment.”

“I’ll wait however long you need,” Xiao Zhan replied, returning the kiss.

Yibo didn’t think the man even meant to sound so romantic, but he would hold that moment close to him. It was the steel in his spine for the upcoming conflict.

He turned and strode for the royal study.

When he pushed open the door, it was Wang Monarch and Gao Tienhe huddled together over his broad expanse of mahogany desk. His father was seated and his advisor was standing bent over the desk, gesturing at what appeared to be scattered notes. They both looked up with startled faces, each of them flitting with a micro-expression of guilt before Wang Monarch wiped his expression clean and Gao Tienhe straightened from the desk, fussing with his cuffs.

“I’m not quite sure what your end game was here,” Yibo said in conversational tones. He reached into his thigh pocket and drew the mask out, turning it around and tossing it onto his father’s mahogany desk so that the crest inside would be visible. “I just know the Xiao family wasn’t behind this…so I’m trying to figure out why.”

Wang Monarch’s eyes widened, his brow furrowed, and he turned his head. “This was not what we discussed,” he hissed at Gao Tienhe, who took a step back. He returned his gaze to Yibo. “Are you all right, Yibo?”

“I’m fine,” Yibo said with a dismissive flick of his fingers. “It’s not my first kidnapping attempt. It probably won’t even be my last. What the hell? I thought you wanted this marriage.”

“I do!” Wang Monarch exclaimed. “I was only trying to put us on more even footing for negotiations after your…your unfortunate revelation of feelings. Explain yourself.” That last was directed to Gao Tienhe.

The man took a step back. One hand came up to rub the base of his neck and he avoided their eyes. “If his highness was kidnapped and it were discovered Sichuan had done so in order to leverage a more advantageous deal in the marriage negotiations, I was sure his most exalted would reconsider the marriage,” Gao Tienhe said.

Wang Monarch hissed. “That doesn’t serve my interests at all! What were you thinking?”

“Xiao Zhan wasn’t supposed to be there!” Gao Tienhe blurted.

Yibo glared at him. “He goes everywhere with me,” he said, putting his head to one side. “I didn’t say I want to marry him to be contrary. I like him. I do want to marry him.”

Wang Monarch was glaring at Gao Tienhe as well. “What do you get out of the marriage falling through? Be honest, or…” 

There was no need for him to follow through on a threat because Gao Tienhe was already babbling it. “Ah, well, my cousin’s family is royal, you know—a distant branch of a previous dynasty. They wanted to make a bid for Prince Yibo’s hand on behalf of their daughter. And that way there might be heirs…”

“Absolutely not,” Yibo said. “My exalted father is right. You didn’t think this through—I’m not interested in women.”

“You’re fired,” Wang Monarch added blandly. “Get out of the country by tonight or I’ll upgrade that to imprisonment.”

Gao Tienhe backed away from the mahogany desk, bowing deeply, visible skin from neck to forehead turning a blotchy red.

“Disappear,” Yibo told him in icy tones.

Gao Tienhe turned and fled.

Wang Monarch reached for the mask, pinching it between thumb and forefinger and tossing it to Yibo, who caught it and pocketed it again. “Have that burned,” he instructed. “I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. Well handled, Yibo.”

Yibo offered a bow. He was relieved his father hadn’t been trying to orchestrate something to get the marriage called off.

“You and Xiao Zhan are both all right, then?” Wang Monarch demanded, looking him over.

“We’re fine,” Yibo assured him. “I think I love him.”

Wang Monarch sighed, sat back in his chair, and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose with one hand. He cradled his face in his palm. “Tell him that, then.” He sounded supremely irritated, but when Yibo bowed again in preparation to depart, he thought he caught a satisfied gleam in his father’s eye.

Yibo couldn’t even care about being brought around to exactly what his father had wanted from him to begin with. It was Xiao Zhan who’d turned him around, after all, and Xiao Zhan who would be his prize out of the entire ordeal.

His mouth split wide in a grin. “I will, then.” Wang Monarch sighed again and shooed him off with a vigorous wave of his hand, dismissing him.

Yibo left quickly, allowing the smugness to fill his demeanor once he was safely out of his father’s view. His father might have thought he’d won the day, but it was Yibo’s victory as much or more.

***

“Zhanzhan, Father told me you’re not dissatisfied,” Xiao Zhan’s mother said, patting his hand, and Xiao Zhan leaned in with a reserved but genuine smile.

“Yes,” Xiao Zhan admitted, trying not to feel too seen.

“Was there any one moment, do you think?”

Xiao Zhan swallowed and looked away, his attention fixing on different features of the royal sitting room. The floor to ceiling windows were framed with heavy, luxuriantly embroidered drapes that were just as long, but they were parted all the way to let the wan light through. Xuan Lu was seated on one of the couches beside the Henan princess Meilin and they had their heads together over a thick high-gloss magazine of designer fashion wear. His gaze lingered on her, the features so similar to Yibo’s, her smiles somewhat more frequent but more reserved than Yibo’s blinding exuberance.

He cast his mind over the trip. When had he fallen for Yibo? Had it been that morning when they’d gone to browse the gallery? Earlier, when they had kissed on the rooftop at sunset? Had it been that sumptuous banquet dinner, watching Yibo pop morsels into his mouth and send sly glances his way? Even earlier, when he’d watched Yibo jostle to get closer to him in the palace foyer?

Perhaps when their hands and eyes had met.

“Many moments strung like gems on a fine chain,” he said at last. He couldn’t narrow it down to any one thing. It was all Yibo and the unfolding of his layers. Realizing that he was both a pushy, boundary-leaping brat and a charming, considerate youth yearning to be touched.

“Ahh, Zhanzhan, that’s romantic,” his mother said with a sigh, leaning against his arm. “You care for him already, then.”

He put his hand atop hers. “I think we have a good foundation,” he said, parroting his father’s words. He trusted his mother a bit more but knew she told his father everything without exception. When he was younger, he’d felt betrayed by that, her inability to keep a single secret for him. Now he understood.

The topic of his feelings for Yibo was far preferable a subject instead of how the afternoon out had gone. He was going to keep the kidnapping attempt to himself, as well as the fact he’d played a part in foiling it. If he kept quiet and someone on the Wang side turned out to be involved, his discretion would be valued.

Yibo strode into the sitting room, hands in his pockets, head turning one way and another until he lighted upon Xiao Zhan. He moved in a straight line for their couch, face becoming more animated though he didn’t smile. It was like a light clicking on, Xiao Zhan mused.

He met Yibo’s gaze, tipping his head up the closer he got.

“Can I talk to you, Xiao Prince?” Yibo asked. His eyes stayed solely on Xiao Zhan. “Alone, please.”

“Of course,” Xiao Zhan replied, rising from the couch and giving his mother a perfunctory bow.

His stomach swam with overeager fish nibbling at the lining. His teeth set in his lip and stayed there until they were free of the sitting room and Yibo took his hand.

“Is it serious?” Xiao Zhan asked, voice hushed.

Yibo’s fingers tightened on his. “Let’s go somewhere more private first. My room is closer.”

Xiao Zhan nodded, and his stomach resumed its slightly queasy tumble. He wouldn’t be at ease until he heard they were past any danger of the attempted kidnapping putting everything at risk.

They made quick time with their long legs to Yibo’s suite and it wasn’t until they were seated on the low settee together that Yibo spoke another word. By then Xiao Zhan had so much dread pooling within him he was certain it had to be bad news. Otherwise couldn’t Yibo speak freely if only to tell him everything would be all right?

Yibo’s thumb rubbed against the side of his hand. “It was one of my father’s advisors,” he said. “He was behind it. Apparently, he went maverick—it was supposed to be something else, I don’t know what, to cast some kind of suspicion on the Sichuan delegation.”

“We wouldn’t,” Xiao Zhan said with a frown. “My father can be devious and scheming, and drive a hard bargain where negotiations are concerned, but he wouldn’t try anything while we’re out with light security.”

“Yeah, I still don’t know what the original plan was,” Yibo said. “He only looked at Gao Tienhe and said, that wasn’t what we talked about. And when he found out it was a kidnapping attempt, he told him to get out of Henan or get imprisoned.”

Xiao Zhan nodded and relaxed by increments, allowing himself to sag toward Yibo’s shoulder. “I’m glad it’s beyond doubt that Sichuan wasn’t involved.”

Yibo snorted. “That reedy guy actually thought he could break up such an advantageous match because his royal cousin wanted a prince for a husband.”

“Oh?” Xiao Zhan inquired, leaning in and raising a brow.

Yibo looked at him, a slight smile tugging his mouth. “Yeah, but there was no way she’d be my type.”

That got Xiao Zhan to crack up and he leaned against Yibo at last, almost whooping over the prospect of the bearded advisor trying to introduce a young lady cousin to his intended. “Did he not _know_ you?” Xiao Zhan gasped, slapping his thigh.

“He was fairly new,” Yibo allowed. “I was pretty sure everyone at the palace knew, at least. I guess he assumed I like both.”

Xiao Zhan’s chuckles trailed off and he settled against Yibo’s shoulder. He was pleased to be right where he was, especially after the fright of the near miss.

“When I thought something might happen to you—or that I might be torn away from you—it put everything into really clear terms for me,” Yibo said. “I don’t want to be separated from you.”

“Oh…I…” Xiao Zhan floundered, once again surprised by Yibo’s bluntness. It left him stumbling for a response. He was too used to concealing, even from those closest to him.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way yet,” Yibo said. He shifted, pulling his shoulder out from under Xiao Zhan, aligning himself to put them knee to knee on the sofa as he took both of his hands. “And I know it’s probably too soon for you, but I love you. I’ll spend however long it takes to convince you I’m worth your love, too.”

All the air left Xiao Zhan like the time he’d fallen off horseback mid-canter when Whisper had spooked. His eyes went wide.

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan said. His voice stuck in his throat. His heart felt like it would trip on overload.

He had the same fears, the same feelings…it was too soon by anyone else’s measure but theirs. He had been afraid to say anything, but as had been the case for all that preceded it, Yibo had taken the leap first. He couldn’t deny his feelings anymore. He didn’t want to. Although Yibo had all the character traits he’d been warned of, he was so much more than that. Xiao Zhan loved him for it.

“It’s okay—” “I love you.”

They spoke at the same time.

“—if they want to wait for the engagement to go for two years, because…wait, what?” Yibo stopped, examining him closely.

“I love you,” Xiao Zhan repeated, squeezing his hands.

Yibo’s smile was stunned and brilliant and everything Xiao Zhan had been hoping for. He tugged him close for a kiss.

“Take me to bed immediately,” Xiao Zhan added. Fortunately, Yibo had the foresight to have brought him to his suite already.

Yibo stood at once, scooped him off the chaise, and pulled him into an over the shoulder carry.

“Hey! Yibo!” Xiao Zhan squawked, but clung to Yibo’s sides with his thighs.

He carried him straight to bed.

Before Xiao Zhan could wind an arm around him, Yibo deposited him onto the bed and climbed on beside him, already beginning to shed his clothes. He paused with his hands on his shirt, eyes intent on Xiao Zhan.

“Did you mean—” he began, and stopped, biting his lip. “We can just make out.”

Xiao Zhan broke out into a smile at that. He loved how Yibo kept checking in with him, making sure everything was mutual at each step. He might be new to making love but he had the aptitude and sensitivity to make it good. He was enthusiastic and mindful of Xiao Zhan. The rest was simply practice.

“Yibo. I want you to rail me into the bedsheets until I cry,” he replied. He reached out to grasp Yibo’s thigh, eyes locked on to the minutiae of his expression. Yibo’s eyes widened a little but he nodded and reached up to peel his shirt off.

They rid themselves of their clothes as fast as possible; Xiao Zhan draped his neatly over the baseboard, already knowing they would end up jolted to the floor by the end of round one. Given Yibo’s stamina and, yes, enthusiasm, there would be no climbing out of bed until after a second round unless they were summoned elsewhere first.

Yibo had said he _loved_ him. He could be happy missing dinner simply to stay wrapped up in the sheets with him.

Once they were naked, Yibo took his face between his hands, dark eyes intense on his. “You love me,” he said in wonder, and it made heat travel up Xiao Zhan’s neck.

“I do,” he confirmed, a smile tugging his lips up as Yibo beamed at him and closed the distance for a kiss.

Everything before had been eager exploration, the thrill of new desire between them. This was Yibo taking his time, taking him apart with the play of his big, finely sculpted fingers exploring every part of him from his shoulders to his hips, kissing him all the while. Their lips met and Xiao Zhan shuddered. Yibo’s fingers tweaked his nipples, broad thumbs rubbing across them, teasing them a little until Xiao Zhan was squirming against him, huffing against his eager mouth. His warm hands explored Xiao Zhan’s belly and the cut below his hips and followed the line of his treasure trail down to his naked cock.

“What do you want?” Yibo whispered against his mouth. “For prep. How much do you want?”

Xiao Zhan shivered a little and considered his options. There were some things he wanted that he wasn’t ready to ask for yet. There were others where they would need to take their time—a lot of time. More than anything he wanted Yibo inside him. He knew how tender he could be, but he wanted it a little rougher now.

“Fingers,” Xiao Zhan replied. He clung to Yibo’s side, bending his head to bite his shoulder and earning himself a chuckle. “Quickly. I want you in me. I want it five minutes ago.” They could go slow and leisurely later. He’d meant what he said, he wanted Yibo to take him hard.

It was a little bit of wanting to be claimed by him and a lot of wanting the sex to match the urgency of his emotions.

Yibo nodded, peeling himself away from him to retrieve the lube that had been kept out on the nightstand the past few days.

They settled together on their sides so that they could kiss, though Xiao Zhan had a feeling as he spread and lifted his leg that most of Yibo’s concentration would not be on his mouth. He made a fair effort at it, though, engaging his lips in a biting sort of kiss as he began to finger him open. As more of his concentration was pulled away to sink his fingers in and stretch him, Xiao Zhan dropped his head to Yibo’s shoulder, panting. As usual he was already starting to sweat and Yibo’s skin was barely dewed. He couldn’t spare a moment for self-consciousness. He lifted his leg higher as Yibo kept stretching him open, that little frown of concentration creasing between his brows. Xiao Zhan wanted to kiss it.

“Feels good?” Yibo checked in when he had three fingers slick and moving in him.

Xiao Zhan gave a hasty nod, a small moan escaping as he rolled his hips down. Yibo’s finger was close, so close…he was craving that long finger right where he was itching to receive it.

When Yibo pulled his fingers out, Xiao Zhan couldn’t help the greedy whine that escaped him.

Yibo quaked against him with a chuckle. “You want me to put them back in?” he asked. “I thought you wanted me to get in you as soon as possible.”

Xiao Zhan wrinkled his nose. It was impossible to have both, but Yibo’s fingers had felt so good. Yet he really, really wanted that dick.

That earned him a satisfied, very masculine laugh. Yibo kissed along his jawline and across his mouth, stroking his fingers over Xiao Zhan’s hole, and Xiao Zhan nipped him for that smugness. He refrained from reminding Yibo it had only been days since he’d come while prepping him and reached down between them to put his hand on Yibo’s dick.

“I want this,” he asserted. He laid back against the plentiful pillows scattered along the head of Yibo’s bed.

Yibo’s eyes gleamed and he was a flurry of motion, sitting up, grabbing the lube and pouring more out over his hand, giving himself a generous coating before reaching for one of the towels he’d started keeping close by. He loomed over him for another kiss as Xiao Zhan adjusted his position to give himself room to lift his legs. He was tempted to flip himself over and start out offering himself that way, but seeing Yibo loom over him was too hot to miss out on.

They would have time. They’d have the rest of their lives to explore everything else.

He lifted his legs for Yibo and Yibo got his arms under them, shifting to fit their bodies together. He had to disengage one arm to reach down and Xiao Zhan rested his leg over Yibo’s shoulder as he guided the head of his cock to that slicked-up part of him where Xiao Zhan was ready to receive. He met Yibo’s eyes and nodded, and Yibo connected their bodies with a low noise.

Xiao Zhan tried not to arch up, but he couldn’t suppress the moan that left him. Yibo was big, but big in a way that felt good. Almost too much, but he knew from the past few times he’d adjust, and they would be brilliant. His needy stretch pulled Yibo forward, eyes going wide as he pressed his cock in all the way. That made Xiao Zhan whimper, but he tightened his legs when Yibo gasped and started to pull back.

“It’s fine, I want it like this,” Xiao Zhan assured him. “Just like this. We can go slow and gentle later, okay?”

Yibo nodded, gaze sparking. He lurched forward, holding fast to Xiao Zhan’s thighs.

It felt good, Yibo’s blunt length spearing him open. He was caught between wanting to widen his thighs or remain as he was to give himself a chance to accommodate. He was stretched enough, he thought; Yibo was just so big and had entered as quickly as he’d asked for.

“Move a little more…” Xiao Zhan whispered, prompting him to ease forward.

Yibo licked his lips and nodded. He withdrew and began to pump back and forth in shallow thrusts.

Of course, Yibo already had him stretched full, so even those shallow strokes made Xiao Zhan very aware of the burn and tension of being entered. He reached out a finger to draw it along Yibo’s neck and urge him on.

Panting lightly, Yibo fucked into him faster, holding on tight to his thighs. Xiao Zhan nodded, pushing up to meet him in turn. Yibo was so big inside him he didn’t even need to tighten down; all he could do was take it and he knew he was tight enough around him. 

“Yes… _yes_ , faster,” Xiao Zhan exulted. “Feels good.” He had to remember to give Yibo some direction; he was getting more confident each time they had sex, but he still needed to hear how Xiao Zhan wanted it.

Yibo sat back on his heels, letting Xiao Zhan’s legs drop as he sped up, doing a repeating body roll. Between the thrust of him inside and the sight of that gorgeous torso rippling as Yibo fucked him, Xiao Zhan was going to come faster than he had in his life. His cock was lying hard and red on his stomach and he’d barely been touched.

He drew his legs up and held them by the knees, watching Yibo do him so beautifully.

It was good, but Xiao Zhan’s stomach tightened, and he pushed up, letting go of his legs. “Yibo…Yibo,” he panted. He wanted…

Yibo slowed, leaning over him and reaching for his cock with an inquiring look. His tongue moved over his lip in a slow sweep as he took hold of him and eased his hand over Xiao Zhan’s hardness, timing it to his own strokes.

Xiao Zhan groaned, rocking up into it. He wanted…he wanted…

“Yibo, let me sit on it,” Xiao Zhan said.

Shaking his head, Yibo lowered over him and began to fuck into him faster, hand pumping Xiao Zhan’s cock.

“Ah…ahh, Yibo,” Xiao Zhan moaned, hitching up to meet each hard press of Yibo’s big beautiful dick inside of him. Yibo had to be some kind of prodigy, because even without much coaxing he was so good at hitting all the right places and lighting him up like Xiao Zhan had never experienced. “Please…”

“Later, Zhan-ge, you can sit on it later,” Yibo replied, easing back and forth in him. He stretched over him, catching at his neck with one hand and kissing him breathless before kneeling up over him again and returning to fast, shallow thrusts.

This part, Yibo had mastered very well. He was bringing them both to the edge with each insistent undulating roll of his hips.

“I’ll take care of you.”

His hand sped up and Xiao Zhan cried out, shuddering. Yibo was going so fast, thrusting in him and bouncing him from ass to collarbones, and it was exactly what he’d asked for and somehow already too much. His whole body felt seized. He reached out for Yibo with one hand, his other clinging to his own leg. He groaned, helpless to his body and the sensation Yibo was driving into him. He caressed down Yibo’s neck, his upper chest, and enjoyed the climax building and cresting through him in an inescapable wave. His eyes slipped closed and his head tipped back as he let it take him.

Yibo wasn’t far behind him, quickening for a few movements before pressing his weight down onto him, mouth seeking his as he rocked inside him. He hardly moved in him at the end, just flexed lazily where they were joined, and Xiao Zhan knew it meant he was coming. He shuddered along with Yibo, running his hands up and down his back as they rocked together. As Yibo’s mouth moved over his lips, Xiao Zhan reached down to clasp at his ass, holding him close.

“So good,” Xiao Zhan mumbled. Feeling him come inside made him feel even more connected to Yibo. He swept his tongue against Yibo’s and they kept kissing as Yibo came to rest atop him. “So good, Yibo. Love you.”

Yibo kissed the corner of his mouth. Fingers brushd at the corners of his eyes, rubbing tears away. “Love you, Zhan-ge,” he said fondly. “You can ride me after we take a break and a shower, sound good?”

“Mn, I’m holding you to that,” Xiao Zhan said. He held onto Yibo’s biceps as his eyes drifted shut. A nap might be in order as well. 

He drowsed and woke with Yibo’s lips pursed against his pulse point. Sleepy, he turned into Yibo’s embrace and their mouths sought each other out. Xiao Zhan kissed him, offering his heart with each one, happy when Yibo crowded him against the pillows and locked an arm around him. Yibo plied him with open-mouthed kisses until he was overcome; they were flushed and breathless and Xiao Zhan was full, his heart, mind and body replete with what he’d never been allowed.

He was suffused to his core with the emotions he’d never expected to have with this man. His intended. His future husband, Yibo. He pulled in a deep, happy breath and bowled Yibo over, chuckling as Yibo made an indignant noise in his throat and grabbed for his bare hips.

“You said,” Xiao Zhan reminded him, bending to press a kiss on Yibo’s forehead.

The pout transformed at once into a leer and Yibo hitched up, chasing his mouth. His hands tightened on Xiao Zhan’s hips. “Whatever Zhan-ge wants,” he said, in a pretense of obedience. He was strong enough to flip Xiao Zhan over if he wanted, but was honoring his word.

Xiao Zhan laughed again, affectionate and overloaded. He could have this. They had this together—and he knew it would only get better from here onward.

“What would you think,” Yibo began, eyes intent, fingers flexing on one hip. “If we added a condition to the marriage negotiations?”

“Oh?” Xiao Zhan prompted. He was already breathless and beginning to sweat as he settled across Yibo’s stomach and rubbed against him.

“That we won’t be separated during the engagement period,” Yibo said. He bit his lip.

Xiao Zhan sucked in a breath, caught off guard by that. Was it all right? Were they really allowed? He laughed and collapsed against Yibo’s chest into his arms, pinching his ribs. “Are you kidding? Won’t you get sick of me?”

Yibo laughed and held him. “I guess I’ll have to go home with you after the engagement so that we can find out.”

That got Xiao Zhan to sit up and he caught the twinkle in Yibo’s eye and the shy curve of his grin that hinted at the uncertainty of the response he’d receive.

“Stay by my side,” Xiao Zhan urged. “I want that too. Besides, after all they’ve put us through…our fathers owe us this much.”

Now that they’d both connected with what they wanted, they had the power to ensure they never had to let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks to xellos_poo for the beta, chengyeets for the cheerleading, and Xinxin for consultations! I really appreciate you all.
> 
> I try to tag comprehensively but if I missed anything please let me know. And if you liked it, I love your comments, your kudos, or you can get more eyeballs on this by retweeting it [here](https://twitter.com/bounddreamer/status/1317106673719287808?s=20).
> 
> You can find me on Twitter at [@bounddreamer](https://twitter.com/bounddreamer) where I like to post pics of these boys, my cats, food, and talk about all of the above plus video games. WangXian (and BJYX) thirst hours are 24/7.


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